


Stiles Based Oneshots

by tony_sassypants_stark



Series: Teen Wolf Oneshots [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Alternate Universe - The Fault In Our Stars, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse Buddies, Banshee Stiles Stilinski, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Cop Stiles Stilinski, Cross Country Backpacking, Dog Stiles, Dragon Stiles Stilinski, Dystopia, F/F, F/M, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Firefighter Stiles, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Jaeger Pilots, Kitsune Kira, Kitsune Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Marine Corps, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Post-Apocalypse, Shapeshifter Stiles, Shapeshifting, Sleepy Cuddles, Sniper Stiles Stilinski, Soul Selling, Spooning, Stalia Parents, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten, Stiles whump, Stisaac Parents, Temporary Character Death, Werecoyote Stiles Stilinski, Werefox Stiles, Wolf Derek, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tony_sassypants_stark/pseuds/tony_sassypants_stark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots based on Stiles because he is my absolute favorite character to write about. God his characterization is so fantastic. Anywho, I do take prompts and requests so hit me up in the comments or in my Tumblr inbox <a href="http://still-in-skii.tumblr.com/ask">HERE</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter Index

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (✘) - Requested Fic  
> ( **!** ) - Sequel & Link to first part

[Chapter 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14495986) : Stiles/Lydia - (non au) Stiles manages to make a simple spongebath extremely awkward.  
[Chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14534161) : Stiles/Kira - (non au, kitsune!stiles) Kira and Stiles have more in common than they would have ever thought.  
[Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14648497) : Stiles/Derek - (teachers au) Derek discovers his new co-worker is hella hot.  
[Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14670310) : Stiles/Lydia - (non au) Stiles and Lydia have a talk about what it means to really be a soulmate.  
[Chapter 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14687203) : Stiles/Scott - (non au) A night of baddie ass-kicking leaves the boys exhausted. Sleepy cuddles ensue.  
[Chapter 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14695090) : Stiles/Isaac - (soulmates au) Stiles discovers his soulmate in the middle of an important lacrosse game.  
[Chapter 7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14712442) : Stiles/Allison - (banshee!stiles allison lives au) What if Stiles was the McCall pack Banshee?  
[Chapter 8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14724412) : Stiles/Danny - (non au) A slight miscommunication on the field leads to something beautiful.  
[Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14761039) : Stiles/Malia - (no stalia break up, stiles gets bitten au) She won't lose Stiles to something as trivial as a piece of fucking _glass_.  
[Chapter 10](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6324943/chapters/14826832) : Stiles/Derek - (dystopia au, canon divergence) Stiles is alone, cold and exhausted when he bumps into someone from his past.  
( **✘** )[Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6503989/chapters/14888431) : Stiles/Scott - (future fic, non au) Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in an attempt at a normal life- as normal as a Marine grade sniper can get. But when he returns for a visit, he discovers that some feelings have changed between himself and his best friend as they kept in touch through letters. (because i fell in love with this au, im going to make it into an official multi-chapter. You can read it [Here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6503989/chapters/14888431)  
( **✘** )Chapter 12 : Stiles/Lydia - (shapeshiter!stiles au, canon divergence) Lydia's little 'ankle biter' dog named Prada isn't all he seems to be  
Chapter 13 : Stiles/Peter - (high school au, young!peter) Wherein the lacrosse player and the basketball player have a lil something something goin on behind closed doors.  
( **✘** )Chapter 14 : Stiles/Allison - (non au, dragon!stiles) When the pack underestimate the latest Beacon Hills baddie Stiles opens a can of whoop-ass and is ultimately forced to reveal his true supernatural identity to everyone; including his anchor.  
( **✘** )Chapter 15 : Stiles / Allison - (the fault in our stars au) Stiles and Allison meet in a support group and it's all- okay, from there.  
( **✘** )Chapter 16 : Stiles / Malia - (future fic, canon divergence, fbi agent!stiles) When Stiles gets injured on the job Malia rips into his entire team for being careless little gitts. Added bonus of lil Stalia baby standing with her mom like she's just as pissed off.  
( **✘** )Chapter 17 : Stiles / Kira - (nogitsune alternate ending au) when stiles actually does what the nogitsune wants him to, Kira is desperate to get him back.  
( **✘** )Chapter 18 : Stiles / Malia - (non au) He's about to say the most important three words of his life when everything goes to hell in the blink of an eye.  
( **✘** )Chapter 19 : Stiles / Allison - (dystopia/zombie apocolypse au, the walking dead crossover) When Stiles lands himself in a spectacularly fucked up situation Allison recruits a few people to help get her trouble prone lover out of danger.  
( **✘** )Chapter 20 : Stiles / Isaac - (future fic, au) Stiles is in a car accident on his way to drop of their five year old at school. When Stiles doesn't get a response he immediately starts to think the worst.  
( **✘** )Chapter 21 : Stiles / Scott - (non au) Scott's waiting for his boyfriend at the airport, ready to romance him off his feet- but what is he supposed to do when Stiles doesn't walk through the gate?  
Chapter 22 : Stiles/Theo - (au) What if Theo had been sincere about why he came back? What if he came back to join the McCall pack...and came back for Stiles.  
( **✘** )Chapter 23 : Stiles/Malia - (au) Stalia backpacking through Europe on their year long break between High School and college.  
Chapter 24 : Stiles/Malia - (future fic, non au) Stiles is a good dad, he swears it. Even when their two children tattle on him.  
Chapter 25 : Stiles/Peter - (cop au) Peter's new partner is fresh out of academy and all kinds of annoying but hot damn is he attractive.  
Chapter 26 : Stiles/Scott/Allison - (being human au, werewolf!scott ghost!allison vamp!stiles) Honestly it shouldn't be **this** hard to live together.  
Chapter 27 : Stiles/Melissa - (warm bodies au, zombie!stiles) Melissa and Scott have someone to protect them. It just so happens that being around her has started a reaction iof change.


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injury lands Stiles in the hospital, bed ridden and cranky. Lydia takes the opportunity to practice for her future career in medicine but gets stuck with the job of bathing a drugged up, restless boy with a mouth incapable of being shut for more than five seconds.

Stiles Stilinski is a regular patient, admitted plenty of times with multiple injures; a broken bone here, a gash there. But never had he been admitted for something that was this debilitating. He'd woken up to blurred vision and weakness unlike anything he'd ever felt- and he'd been put in plenty of situations that left him so exhausted he swore he was boneless, that he could feel the exhaustion seeping into his circulatory system. He couldn't lift his head from the pillow placed under it but he could lift his hands a little and it happened to be just enough to catch someone's attention. A faint whisper that sounded like jibberish to him came from somewhere off to his left, a soft hand rubbing his arm. His vision was muddled, still blurred around the edges but he caught the distinct strawberry blond of Lydia's hair, the green of her eyes. He wanted to smile but it probably looked like he was grimacing with the way his muscles weren't cooperating.  
  
"Stiles, can you hear me?" The most he could manage in response was a gruff sounding hum, feeling his eye lids flutter at the wave of tiredness washing over him.  
Jesus Christ it was exhausting to be awake. Lydia said something more but he was a little too focused on keeping his eyes open for more than five seconds to pay her any attention- that is until she returned to the bedside with a styrofoam cup, plastic straw dangling over the rim. Then she had all of his attention and then some.  
"You have to drink slowly, you'll make yourself sick if you drink too much too fast." In his mind he's screaming 'yeah, yeah just give me the water' in reality he's probably opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to say something- anything- but his mouth and throat are bone dry. Way to look appealing to the girl you've liked since third grade, buddy.  
A waft of vanilla hits his senses and the next moment Lydia is bent over the side of his bed, holding the cup and straw to his lips with a small smile on her face. God she's beautiful. He smiles a little, just so she knows he's appreciative of her having done this, and then proceeds to drink the entire cup of water. In small sips, because Lydia is still a little unsure of how much he should really be drinking so quickly and tends to move the cup away if he starts gulping instead of sipping.  
Not that it matters, because the second he's finished it off and Lydia's moved to place the empty cup on the bedside tray- he's out like a light, completely exhausted from such a simple everyday task. 

 

He wakes up a second time feeling much more cognitive. He can blink his eyes open without feeling like they're weighted, he can wiggle his fingers (which he stops because he can feel the pulse monitor on one of his fingers and goddamn does it feel weird) and he can actually hear what is going on around him.  
He lets out a heavy sigh, rolls his head to the side and can't help but smile at the sight that greets him; Scott, Lydia and Melissa are all positioned around the room while they quietly chatter about....AP Biology? Yeah that's the last thing he needs to be thinking about. Although thinking about the big bad supernatural jerkoff who put him in the hospital in the first place is something he'd rather not be thinking about either.  
  
And apparently that happens to be the last thing Scott would want to be talking about by the sounds of it. "You can't keep doing this, Scott. You're going to fail all of your classes at this rate and that reflects on me as a bad parent." Ouch. He can see the look on Scott's face so clearly in his mind that he actually thinks he might have seen it. All big, guilty eyes. He figures he must be right when Lydia makes that noise in the back of her throat, the one that makes an appearance when she's put into an emotionally awkward (for her) situation.  
It goes quiet after that and Stiles swears he could have cut through the tension with a dull butter knife. The door to his room opens and closes, the quiet interrupted briefly, but there is no voice following.  
He'd have to roll his head to the other side to see that part of the room, to see who stayed or left, and he quite frankly feels a little too doped up for that. Like he's in a comfortable position that he will never find again if he moves even the slightest of bits.  
Turns out he doesn't have too when a hand lands on his cheek, soft and caring, and Melissa's curly brown hair falls into his line of sight.  
"Hey sweetie, how ya feeling?" She has a smile on her face and that twinkle in her eye that makes him feel safe and loved.  
He loves Melissa, he thinks vaguely, she's such a great mom.  
He feels her hands, gloved and cold, moving over him in what he assumes is protocol for a patient just coming around. She seems satisfied with his vitals which puts him even more at ease, has him melting into the matress and looking up at her with a dopey smile. He hadn't realized how freaked out he was about what state his body was in.  
"Hm...'M feeling alright." He can hear Lydia chuckling behind him, more than likely amused by the way his voice sounds. To him it sounds off, almost like it had been fiddled around with in a mixing booth. Robotic. It makes him want to open his mouth and say more. He opens his mouth to say something to Lydia but all that comes out is a croak of a laugh.  
"Easy there, you've got a good amount of stitches in your side and trust me you do not want to tear them." He thinks he should be freaking out a little bit but instead he's lifting his blanket to take a look, still laughing at something he doesn't even fully process. It takes him a second or two to realize why he can't see anything there. He's wearing a hospital gown, complete with the ties in the back and nothing underneath. "Damn it I can't see it." Wow that's morbid, is what goes through his mind, I want to see my own life threatening injury.  
He curls his upper lip and lets his head loll to look over at the bedside tray that's devoid of his empty cup of water and replaced with those kidney shaped bowls that hospitals seem oh-so fond of. It's got a few things by it's side but he can't bring himself to focus on figuring out what they are, not when he's got someone poking and proding at him.  
Speaking of, he wants to squirm away from the cold fingers- but before he can even manage to roll over Lydia is there with her small, soft hands and smiling eyes. He's momentarily enchanted.  
Momentarily being the key word here.  
He grins this time, moving his eyes from Lydia to Melissa and back again. Back to Lydia, who honestly looks worse for wear but alert. Like she was put together but living off of coffee. It's nothing new to him but he can't seem to look away.  
"Hey." His voice draws out the 'y' and he forces himself to keep down the laughter that he feels bubble up, even as he vaguely hears Melissa excuse herself and leave the room. He's focused on the pretty redhead before him, on her smile and the way her hair falls over her shoulder when she shakes her head.  
"Hi." She laughs and it's like bells ringing in his ears- not the ones that are loud and clunky. The small musical ones, the ones that everyone associates with love....yeah, he still loves Lydia. He loves Lydia a lot. It must show on his face that he's thinking, and thinking hard at that, because suddenly Lydia is gently patting his cheek to grab his attention.  
"I need you to help me a little okay?" Her hands move down to the back of his neck when he nods, and his mind formulates the first dirty joke he can think of; "You tryin' to get me out of my clothes Ms. Martin?" Complete with wiggling eyebrows and the works. He wants to be able to say she laughed, but in reality she just scowled and smacked lightly at his shoulder.  
"Oh my God can you not? I want to get at least something good out of a bad situation and this is....not what I had planned." She makes another face at that, eyebrows scrunching together and lips pulling to the side. "But it will do. I'll have to get used to this hands-on stuff anyway, so might as well do it with you instead of some stranger." His mind....he hates it. "You wanna do it with me?" Lydia stands there for a few moments, looking at him with the single most deadpan expression he thinks he has ever seen on her face and that's saying something, and then gets up.  
For a second he thinks he's scared her off (but come on, she's known him since third grade you would think he'd know better by then) but she bypasses the door and makes her way to the bedside tray instead.  
"No, Stiles. I want to bathe you." She says it as if it counters what he'd said, so matter of fact-like that he's stunned into silence while he watches her move things around.  
He knows he's blushing, can feel the heat in his cheeks and at the tips of his ears, but it does very little to clear his still muddled mind. If anything it makes it a little worse.  
Lydia, the girl he's liked and eventually fallen in love with since third grade, is preparing to wipe him down with a fucking sponge. Naked. Naked bathes. Oh Jesus.  
He kinda freaks out a little.  
"Woah, woah, woah." His hands flail awkwardly by his sides, IV's constricting his movement in a way he hates, and wiggles his way up so he's leaning against the pillows in a somewhat upward position.  
Lydia just gives him this look like she's dealing with a child.  
"Relax will you? It's just a sponge. It's not like it's going to bite you." Her look softens the slightest bit as she sits beside him, one hand over his side to hold her weight and the other hovering over his shoulder.  
"I won't bite you." This is so not how he pictured getting undressed with Lydia.  
But he lets it happen anyway, lets her loosen the ties down his back and peel away the hospital gown until its pooled around his waist over the covers of the hospital bed. He thanks God that she'd left him at least modest of his lower half. Especially with the way she's looking at him....like she was seeing the male body for the first time since puberty.  
It's both amusing and horrifying.  
  
Neither of them speak as the bandage is carefully removed (with protest because Jesus fuck does it hurt to have body hair torn out of your skin like a band-aid being removed) and a warm cloth is brushed over his chest so lightly he could think it wasn't even there if he hadn't seen it himself. That look, the one on Lydia's face, was gone the second it seemed she realized what she had been tasked with. It makes him smile, the way she looks down at her hands and not at him. She looks so calm, so shy- so unlike the woman he'd come to know as unbelievably strong. She was so fucking strong.  
Her hands are warm, and soft, but so careful that it almost tickles when she starts on his uninjured side. It's like he's living a dream, complete with the fuzziness and the urge to speak exactly what he thinks. But it stays quiet between them, silent if not for Stiles occasional chuckles and small sounds of discomfort when she finally gets to washing around his wound. It doesn't hurt but it does give him the oddest sensation of his skin being pulled tight, like it's stretched unnaturally thin over his ribs. He chalks it up to the fact that his skin is actually swollen when he'd been stitched up.  
  
But silence doesn't mean there was nothing happening.  
Lydia, although staying within the professional guidelines of a nurse or doctor, was as red as the blouse she was wearing. He caught her hands lingering a few times, her eyes even more so. Even her breathing was slightly elevated, if the rise and fall of her chest was anything to go by- and yes, Stiles was staring at her chest. She had a fantastic body and he had eyes. Sue him.  
And Stiles. Well, he wasn't exactly being quiet per say, especially not when lydia's hand had brushed low over his abdomen or had hesitated over his collarbones and even more fluster enducing to him, she had hesitated over his fucking nipples. Like she was afraid to touch him, or like it would be crossing a line.  
He was unaware of this line, and made it known by cocking an eyebrow at her once she looked up from her work. He had her attention.  
This was a whole new Lydia. A Lydia he could get used to having around, if he were to be completely honest-  
He flinched hard, brought back to reality when he realized Lydia had re-wet the cloth and rested it against his cheek.  
"Sorry..." Was croaked quietly as response, not from him but her. She still refused to look at him in the eyes, but he knew she was still looking at him.  
"S'okay Lydia." He had to say it so quietly it was nearly a mumble, afraid if he said it any louder it would break them. If, of course, his hand on her wrist didn't manage to do that itself. And in a way it did. Lydia's hand stopped all movement, the sponge warm against his cheek as she flicked her eyes up to meet his.  
They were framed with long, thick eyelashes and light make up but still managed to look scared. He hated when she looked like that, like she was afraid of something- or someone.  
  
"I heard them, all of them yelling your name." She says it so firmly that it almost makes him jump, having gotten so used to their quiet speaking. "I tried not to." She delicately sits down on the bed, hands retreating to rest in her lap as she looks down at them with a vacant expression. Her fingers fumble with the sponge absentmindedly, the water droplets leaving spots on her skirt. "I tried my best not to scream, Stiles. But it doesn't work like that."  
She's sitting ramrod straight, shoulders squared. She looks strong, confident, unafraid. But her tears say different, they say she's tired- exhausted and altogether not able to handle this. "You died, Stiles." The way she looks up at him after saying that last word makes his chest tighten. It even manages to sober him up a little, as much as someone on high grade pain meds can. He wants to tell her it wasn't real, he wasn't dying back at the school- hadn't lost so much blood that he was practically laying in a puddle of it on the locker room floor. But he can't, all he can do is make her feel better about what was happening in the present.  
"I'm here though aren't I?" It comes out more a question than the strong statement he'd meant it to be and he cringes at the way Lydia looks over at him, eyes cutting. "I mean....I'm here, okay. I'm here and I'm alive. It's okay now."  
The second his statement is out in the open it's like a switch flips inside Lydia. "Stiles you fucking DIED! It is not okay!" She's turned to face him, eyes wide and wet with tears as she looks at him like he'd just said the sky was anything but blue. "Your heart stopped, you stopped breathing- Stiles you actually died."

 

No matter how strong a person can be, they will always have some form of a weakness. It's astounding to Stiles that he happens to be Lydia's weakness.  
Never in his wildest dreams would he give himself that title.  
He didn't have to, not really. Not when it was Lydia who did it for him.  
They'd stayed up as late as Stiles could manage, talking about what had gone down...how they had ended up in the hospital and what it all would eventually mean for everybody. The one thing they saved for last was what it all meant for them.  
For Lydia, it meant she would never allow those damned voices to tell her Stiles was dying. Never again. She would rather die than go through the pure, unadulterated fear of having to come to terms that Stiles was the next to die. That the boy who had saved her life on multiple occasions wouldn't be there with his stupid jokes and witty banter and his quote, unquote "dumb puppy dog eyes".  
For Stiles it was a tad more complicated; even after years of unrequited pining, of love and sheer adoration...after being turned down and having other men chosen over him...he still loved Lydia more than any other girl he'd been with- and ever would be. He'd said it before but this time it was different. This time Lydia was listening, really listening. She was hearing him say he loved her as a man, not as an annoying kid with no experience with girls.  
She heard him say every word he'd said multiple times before; loved you since third grade, i'll always love you, you 're all i want.  
It was a nice change in pace for the two of them, to just be a pair of normal emotionally confused teenagers. Given, they were in a hospital at three in the morning discussing past experiences with the supernatural.  
So. Not-so normal teenagers. Still emotionally confused though, that was gonna be a doozey to get past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these cuties. Man I seriously hope Jeff isn't hinting towards Stiles turning Lydia down next season with that comment about making a lot of people angry but some people happy *wheezes* Stydia gotta happen man, six seasons in the making.
> 
> Aaaand that's the end of this one. I've been watching AHS all day while I wrote this and it's probably a little choppy just because I kept pausing to look up when someone died lmao


	3. 火災 & サンダー

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kasai and Sanda meet in the most unexpected place: a lacrosse field?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place during the charity lacrosse game when the beast of gevaudan attacked.   
> So this is a re-write of what could have happened if Kira was present during the game as the attack happened and Stiles were more than just human.

It happens so quickly that she almost believes she imagines it. A flash of vivid orange, eyes glowing behind the darkness of a lacrosse helmet. Familiar eyes, that belong to a Beacon Hills team member- 24.   
Stiles, the renound human of their pack, had the eyes of a supernatural. She had to have been imagining it, afterall there had been nothing to point any of the pack members into the direction of a supernatural creature being in their midst. Not once had Stiles shown any indications of being anything but a human. Not even a scent. And even still, as he gets into position to start the next half of the game, there is no scent coming from him other than his usual- with the added adrenaline, sweat and slight nervousness that comes with...well, the entire situation they were all in. She could feel the entire pack, all on their toes, not knowing what to expect to happen next. The only one she seemed unable to read was the boy next to her, bent to look one of the rival teams defense straight in the eyes.  
He looked fearless, determined even. But Kira could smell the unease rolling off him in waves. And that's when she noticed it; he was looking over the other boys shoulder. He was looking into the stands, full of onlookers, with those eyes.   
He was looking for the beast- which, in his case was not the given task he'd been told to do. He had tried to look for the matching shoe from the bloody foot print left behind in the hospital and had no such luck, returning to the field with unbridled frustration. And now he was right back to doing what he did best; help. Even when he was not asked to do so he would not hesitate to jump right into the mix of things.  
Now was no different as he scanned the crowd, unaware that someone was watching him with matching eyes.   
She came to the very quick assumption that Stiles was more than just a familiar supernatural creature, he was a fellow kitsune. It was further proven when she looked at him with her own kitsune-orange eyes. He was surrounded by an aura that looked almost as if he were being ingulfed in flames.

 

It was like the world around her was moving in fast forward after that. She could feel her control begin to shaken, crack and then disappear altogether as she watched Stiles.  
Why hadn't he said anything? Why had he hidden it for so long, and even kept quiet when she very obviously had needed help learning control?  
It made her angry in ways she didn't know she could be. Especially when it came to Stiles...the boy who wanted nothing but good for the people in his life. The boy she was slowly starting to develope feelings for- her boyfriend's best friend and friend's ex boyfriend. The thought made her even angrier, not only with Stiles for being the cause of her feelings but also with herself for letting them develope at all in the first place. Before she knew what was happening, she was barreling into his side in a full-force takle, pulling off her gloves to swing at him. He scrambled to grab at her fists but was visibally shocked by the change in her, gloved hands clumsy and flailing. In the next moment, everything was a blurr as she was pulled off of him, still kicking and swinging while she was nearly dragged off of the field and in-turn forced back into the school.  
The second she was through the locker rooms door, it was like a switch was flipped off in her mind.

 

By the time Kira came back around it was over. The beast had attacked, hurt innocent people- and whooped her boyfriend's ass, but as she was being filled in all she could seem to think about was Stiles, stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to Scott retell what had happened on his part with the beast. They were all gathered up in the McCall residence, stood around the kitchen as they went over the night before from their own perspectives. She was at a loss though...she didn't remember what had happened between her and Brett's sister when she had lost control. All she remembered was the flare of pure anger toward Stiles.  
"So let me get this straight." Lydia spoke up suddenly, snapping Kira out of her thoughts. "Mason is the beast of gevaudan, Corey helped him get away and Kira lost control again?"  
She knew it wasn't meant to be presented in a reprimanding way but her brain immediately kickstarted at the statement. "It's not my fault, I swear I didn't mean for it to happen but it was triggered this time!" Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stiles' shoulders stiffen, the lines of his body tensing ridgedly. She turned to face him fully when silence followed her short outburst, watching as whiskey brown eyes widened in an almost begging fashion. He didn't want her to say anything.  
"I got mad, Stiles lied. He's been lying to everyone." Said boy closed his eyes, lips pressing together into a line of tension. His expression wasn't enough to stop Kira though and she continued, venting the anger that was quickly forcing her control to dwindle. "He's like us, like me. Scott he's a kitsune, always has been! He didn't tell us though and I can't figure out why! He could have helped us, so many times he could have said or done something but he just....didn't!" Her eyes left Stiles in favor of Scott, who was looking at his best friend with confusion shining in his eyes, disbelief written all over his face for everyone to see.  
"Stiles?" His voice sounded hesitant, scared almost. It still plucked her heart strings to see Scott looking like this, but when she looked back to Stiles?   
Her heart stopped altogether.  
The eyes from the previous night, glowing orange vividly, were back in place. His expression was one of complete and utter defeat, the exact opposite of what it had been while looking into that crowd of innocent people. This was Stiles she was outting, Stiles who did everything for others and never had a reason solid enough to put himself first. And as she watched him expose himself supernaturally it was like a slap to the face.  
Kira felt intense and sudden shame at her actions. Especially when she had to watch and experience the betrayal on Scott's face, the expression of crushing emotion on Malia's- everyone looked at Stiles as if he couldn't be trusted.   
It was her fault. It was all her, the reason why they were looking at Stiles like that; if he had the time and right place to tell everyone they would most definitely understand, Kira included. She had no doubt about that, but the way she had reacted was so unlike her that it actually frightened her. Her reaction was directly from the kitsune, she had little chance to actually react as herself.  
In a way she feels that time is good as any to voice what she had felt on the field, how she wished she had been able to push down the anger and control the kitsune.   
To apologize.  
But she's beat to it when Scott shakes his head, pulling his best friend into a tight hug so he can tell him it's okay. He understands.  
Kira thinks Scott must be the single most understanding person she will ever meet and feels dread settle into the pit of her stomach at the thought of having to hurt him if she ever wants to pursue what she feels probably wouldn't ever become of anything good.  
She isn't blind; especially not to the people around her. She knows Scott likes her, knows Malia won't be over Stiles anytime soon....and then there's Lydia. Lydia who doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve but isn't the best at hiding the emotion in her eyes when she has to watch Stiles be with another girl. She doesn't even want to imagine throwing herself and Scott into the already complicated love triangle.  
So she voices her feelings, her fear over gradually losing all control, the way she wished things had gone.  
It goes over a little too well. Stiles isn't the first to reassure her that it's alright, that it wasn't even her fault that her intial reaction was a relatively bad one. But he comes around, after he realizes that what the others were saying was true. And when he does, he makes sure to pull her into a hug with a small smile, whisper a quiet (private) "It's alright, I understand why you did that in a way nobody else could." When he pulls away Kira, for the first time, realizes just how screwed she is. That short hug had made the butterflies she got with Scott turn into a smoldering flame. 

 

The pack dynamics change drastically after that night on the field; like Stiles being a kitsune was nothing new. It's a testimant to not only Scott's true alpha status but also to the foundation the pack had been built upon. No matter how rag-tag they seemed to outsiders, they held strong and firm to the fact that they were together in more than just a friends bound way. Kira was more than thankful for it as she, along with the others, grew to know this new side to Stiles. He was a Kasai Kitsune; fire. And it shown through him in ways everyone should have taken notice of before but never had. He melded right in with the mix without having to be pointed in the right direction, Kira even found that he tended to drift toward her when they were out in the preserve for pack meetings. It was an intersting delevopement for their pack, the way they seemed to bond over their commonalities.  
For Scott it was nothing he worried about, after all Stiles was his best friend and Kira was his girlfriend. Why worry- okay so he was jealous and Kira knew it. He wouldn't admit to it though. And Malia was caught shooting her looks sometimes, full-on glares that she didn't bother hiding. She looked miserable for lack of a better word.  
They sparred together more often than not, did research on what exactly they could be capable of doing, and eventually managed to seamlessly incorporate their every day lives into the two of them hanging out together.  
It went from pack meetings to after school hangouts to accidental sleepovers, usually spent with the two of them falling asleep at the Stilinski kitchen table while doing homework together only to be woken up by the Sheriff at nearly four in the morning to move into the living room or for Kira to decide to head home. It became an unspoken rule that they meet after school on Monday's and Wednesday's although they technically ended up doing it more often than just the two week days they had designated as their research days.  
The first time they actually get confronted for their excessive time spent together is the day Malia decides she's had enough of watching the boy she loved spending all of his free time with another girl- and one of her pack mates to be exact. She crowds Stiles up against the hood of his Jeep when he pulls up to the school and nearly stumbles his way out of his beloved car. "So. Kira and you, what's going on. I can smeel the two of you all over each other and it.....it makes me want to tear her throat out."   
That exact moment had to be the most horrendously awkward thing to ever happen to Kira. She had been in the passanger side of the Jeep.  
"What- Malia, no ripping throats out we went over this." The werecoyote cocks an eyebrow at him as he gestures wildly toward the Jeep, and Kira ducks in an effort to hide herself away. "Many, many times in fact." His tone is so matter-of-fact that she can practically feel Malia rolling her eyes at him.   
"Fine, I won't touch her throat. It doesn't change things though...." The way she trails off makes Kira peek up from where she's hunkered down in her seat and she has to bite her lip to keep from saying anything. Malia, for all the strong, fierce power she exudes....looks like she's on the verge of tears. It makes Kira realize a few things. Malia and Stiles had been more than just fooling around together while they were young enough to get away with it; they had become akin to something like being each others anchors.   
She hears Stiles start talking to her in hushed tones, hugging her and rubbing her back and it's all Kira needs to sneak her way out of the Jeep and into the school.  
Where she faces Scott and Lydia waiting for her near her locker. She has the piece of mind to turn and speed walk as fast as she can in the opposite direction but Scott catches sight of her and waves her over before she can even turn on her heel. So she trudges over to the two, head down and looking up at them through thick, black eyelashes as she waits for them to confront her.  
And confront her they do, with Lydia giving her this look that is horrifically similar to her Mother's 'youre in trouble' look and Scott flying off the handle as he asks questions she can't keep up with fast enough to actually answer. It takes three and a half minutes for Scott to notice Kira's completely at a loss as to what the hell she is supposed to say, and he slows down to an eventual stop. She figures it must be the look on her face that really cements the situation between them, as Scott lets out a heavy sigh and nods. "So....you like him don't you." And it's not a question, not like she had hoped, it was a statement. Which meant he had picked up on it. Lydia however surprises the both of them with her shock, reacting in a completely genuinely surprised fashion.  
The surprise melts into momentary anger. She hides it quickly, eyebrows raising and hip cocked out to the side as she looks over her friend. 

 

Scott and Kira break up the following day, each heavy hearted but knowing it was probably for the best. Malia is on a completely different level. She's practically attached to Stiles' hip for the next week or so, meloncholy and posessive. Nobody commentson it, but Stiles seems put out by the time he can't get any research done due to Malia tagging along and constantly looking over his shoulder in a very personal way. He snaps at her a few times, and judging by her reaction it must have become a normality over the past few days. But he doesn't stop there when the girl doesn't back off. "Malia. Seriously can you just stop?" Kira isn't the only one who flinches at his tone, or at the look in his eyes. Malia flinches as well, eyebrows drawing in close as she looks at the back of her ex boyfriends head like it offended her. She doesn't say anything though, as she grabs her coat and backpack before heading out the Stilinski's front door and off into the night.  
It stays relatively silent between them as the minutes pass, the only sounds coming from the clicking of laptop keyboards and flipping book pages.  
Stiles is the first to break the heavy silence, leaning back in his chair to rub a hand down over his face with a tired sounding sigh. "You and Scott broke up because of me, didn't you." Yet another statement that should have been a question. She can't help he way her back tenses, eyes flicking down to look at the keyboard of her laptop with interest.   
She nods.  
"Malia told me she wanted to be around me as often as she could a few days ago. I kind of figured it had something to do with her, uh, feelings towards you." It's no secret that these feelings are of jealousy- at least not to Kira. She had picked up on them the second Malia started showing even an inkling of them. "And Scott has been acting weird towards me, keeps avoiding the topic of your breakup." The look on his face when he lowers his hand is on she has never seen on him before. "Kira...do you like me?"  
The only response she can formulate is a small, silent nod.  
"I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I usually update daily but yesterday I had my first root canal. I don't ever have much trouble with my teeth so I was freaking out lol it was 100% painless during the actual procedure but by the time I got home (I planned on updating then) the entire left side of my mouth was throbbing and swollen. It's still swollen but the pain has dulled so I'll double update to make up for missing yesterday!  
> Also heh heh heh cliffhanger. Sorry.


	4. Walking Wetdream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek now officially works with a walking wetdream and can do nothing about it.  
> Unless he does what he ultimately does not wanna do but ends up doing it anyway because  
> he's a whole new brand of stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by two things:  
> One being my sister in-law who is 22 years old and currently a math teacher for High School students. She's a friggin' genius and makes me feel super dumb lmao  
> And the second being Dylan as Stuart Twombly in The Internship. God he is a gorgeous human being.  
> Especially in glasses. And beanies.
> 
> On a sidenote this is short and not nearly as detailed as I wish it was. I've been stuck on this one for a few days and I have no idea why. Like dude come on it's a cute au but my mind was like lol nah you aren't gonna write noooothiiiiing.

Derek never considered himself to be particularly 'old' as far as the average age of a teacher goes. Sure, he's not exactly fresh out of college or even considered a young adult anymore but he's definitely not that one teacher who carries around four different pairs of glasses and complains about how things were back in HIS days of school.  
He's not young enough to see asking for students phone numbers to text homework assignments as something appropriate, not to say he doesn't end up getting numbers anyway. Apparently he's still young enough to have groups of teenage girls giggling about his charming goodlooks.   
That changes however. The day that the entire teaching staff is sat down and told they are to warmly welcome and help out their newest "team member" is the day Derek Hale's admittedly low self esteem is knocked down a notch.  
The guy is literally fresh out of college, no older than his early twenties and looks like he'd stepped out of some kind of geek oriented pornography. He's all skinny limbs and whiskey colored doe eyes- framed with thick lashes and black rimmed glasses. And of course as if the guy wasn't perfect enough, he also had the straightest- whitest- teeth Derek had ever fucking seen. If he didn't know any better he'd openly admit that this guy was one hundred and fifty percent his type.   
But this is a co-worker, he reminds himself, and you do not under any circumstances date within the work place.  
So he welcomes the new guy, Stiles Stilinski he'd said his name was, with a firm handshake and no eye contact and then continued with his day as if it was completely normal. No hot nerd just across the hall and two doors down. No. None of that.   
Only problem is...he's reminded throughout the day, from students gossiping amongst themselves to said man actually stopping by his classroom to ask for a helping hand with something he wasn't sure about. And it doesn't end there, of course not. It just gets worse with the following weeks, Mr. Stilinski would happen to bump into him on his way out of the teachers lounge or be put on lunch duty with him- he swore he'd strangle Braedon the next time she decided he would enjoy lusting over his unavailable co-worker for thirty minutes straight with no escape. The woman was insufferable at most, but they had a friendship he wouldn't trade for the world- she'd been a big part of his life not three years back when he'd suffered a rather large family loss. She was experienced, knew how to handle his reactions and coping methods in a way many other people in his life simply couldn't.  
So imagine his complete and utter horror when, a month into his dilema, Stiles shows up for the Friday night round of drinks at one of the local bars.   
Braedon does nothing to hide the fact that she'd been the one to extend the invitation, even going as far as to cock an eyebrow in Derek's general direction when Stiles asks where would be best for him to take a seat, and Derek really just hates her.   
The poor guy ends up nearly laid on Derek's lap when Braedon literally shoves him into their little booth with for too much enthusiasm, and it's a true testiment to Derek's thoughts that Stiles blushes furiously and apologizes for the inapropriate contact. They share the same mindset when it comes to workplace relationships apparently.  
In a way he's grateful for the fact that he wouldn't have to worry about any of that. In more ways he is fucking miserable that he's come to the conclusion that even if he, for the first time, broke down the co-worker barrier....nothing would have even had the chance to start between them. Friends was a good thing to be and he knew that but goddamn this guy was literally a walking wetdream and after a month of being around him every single day of the work week? Yeah Derek was seriously starting to question his stupid workplace emotional rules. Especially now that he was out spending time with him in a non-workplace setting.   
With alcohol.  
Yup, that was happening and it was fantastic if he did say so himself. Opportunity to get to know him better struck in the form of a drunk Stiles, and Derek jumped on it.  
Stiles, as it turns out, was no older than twenty two years old and loving his first teaching job despite the way the students constantly reminded him that there were only a few years seperating them in age. He was just as nerdy as Derek suspected him to be with constant chatter of Star Wars and comic books and then swapped over to the subject he'd majored in while at college; psychology. It was a surprise, but the kid was passionate almost to a fault. It was what he'd wanted to delve deeper into when he was younger but ended up teaching High School when he realized it was rewarding to be the person a kid could look up to for knowledge. He loved being the teacher of a subject kids generally tended to dislike because he knew; if you made learning something fun, interesting and easy then kids wouldn't mind actually learning. It was a great thing, to see that particular brand of passion in someones eyes. And not for the first time, Stiles- with his openmouthed laughter and flailing limbs- had something unfurling deep in the pit of Derek's stomach.  
All in all Stiles was a fantastic human being and Derek may or may not have fallen into very strong like with him.  
Very strong like.

Of course the strong like for Stiles carried over into the way he interacted with him during the day from casual workplace instances to the times they would grab something to eat after work or, after finding out they shared a similar interest in surfing, the few times they met up over weekends to hit the beach for the day. He found himself sighing like a lovesick teenager again when Stiles smiled, like it literally took his breath away. He found himself lingering when he would pat a shoulder or purposefully brush fingers when handing something over. And don't even get him started on seeing the guy in a wetsuit. Jesus Christ, Derek could have easily sworn he'd never imagined Stiles to have even the slightest bit of muscle definition but- once again- he was so, so painfully wrong. He himself hit the gym daily, was a tad bit of a health nutt, but Stiles had voiced his utter uninterest in going out of his way to exercize more than he really needed. Sure he owned a lacrosse stick and a surfboard and Derek had caught a glimpse of a skateboard in the backseat of his Jeep. So he was athletic, and had the body to prove it- and lets be honest Derek has hands to prove it as well, takes full advantage of it and subtly takes every single chance he gets to touch him. And look at him.   
Derek is attracted, sue him.  
They develope a routine every weekend, wake up eat breakfast and hit the beach until around six- head home, grade papers and eat dinner.  
During the first two weekends they spend together Derek discovers that Stiles has had one hell of a life so far, from losing his mother at an early age to struggling with the responsibility of practically keeping his fathers entire health in check. It's nothing like Derek's, surrounded by family and always having someone close when he needs them. Sure he'd experienced loss but never to the extent of actually losing a parent or direct family member. After Stiles had shared that tidbit they'd finished grading papers in silence, coffee and tea respectively forgotten in favor of awkwardly sneaking looks at each other while pretending to focus on something else. That night has been one of many times they would have heart to hearts, and then pretend they never happened when Monday rolled back around.  
It never really registered in Derek's mind that Stiles was the same guy he worked with, like he was two completely different people; one being a free spirited young man with a level of sarcasm so high it could blow off a ceiling. He was unputtogether with perfectly messy hair and board shorts, the occasional cigarette when he got overly frustrated and never ending jokes. And then there was the Stiles he knew at work....he was the textbook definition of a teachers pet, he was not at all lazy with his appearance and held an air of higher intelligence. His sarcasm never really managed to fully hide, most times making an appearance when someone sassed him or thought they knew better than he did. Derek kind of adored that about him, liked the banter and the way he reigned it in to use as a way to connect with certain students. Derek could be sarcastic, had gotten pretty good at it after growing up with someone as sarcastic as Cora, but he never managed the levels Stiles did. It kind of became something he looked forward to every day, the way kids would playfully pick on him in the hallways and he would always, without fail, have something twice as whitty to say back.  
He had it bad. So, so bad. He took to leaning out the doorway of his classroom before the bell rang just to watch Stiles interacting with his students, and noticed he was starting to actually let his feelings affect his professional behaviour. It was supposed to go away, the way he was crushing, but the more time he spent with Stiles the worse it got.  
He didn't care all that much, not after he'd found that Stiles managed to get under his skin and had no intentions of leaving.  
So halfway through the school year he simply gave up. No more skirting around the things he wanted to say or do, no more forcing himself to react to things in a way he didn't actually want to. He'd started putting in his time for lunch duty or hall monitor on days he knew Stiles would be doing the same. He freely started texting and calling whenever he damn well pleased, and even started planting the seed of hanging out during the week.  
Which went over swimmingly when Stiles actually agreed and Derek could have sworn he heard the woman living in the apartment beneath his smacking the handle of her broom against the ceiling to get him to shut the fuck up- yes, he may have gotten excited and not so quietly had a conversation with Braedon about what he was supposed to do- 'make it a date? Just as friends? Wait, what are we even going to be doing?'

 

From there they became something more than friends but less than lovers.  
It was an odd mix of intimate details of life and themselves shared, but never did anything escalate to intimate touches. It was like an emotional relationship, and Derek was happy with it. He could do that, he could be the one Stiles would go to when he would eventually crumble under the stress- he could be the one Stiles would call first when he wanted to hang out with someone or he needed something from someone. In no way did he feel like he was being used, not once. They had a mutual need for each other that was both odd and comfortingly easy. It was like an unpolished jem; not at it's fullest potential but still worth more than it's weight in gold.   
Derek was ready to make what they had, something more. Of course he was always the one to make the first moves....that had bothered him. The fact that Stiles would kind of just be there, hinting but never coming right out and saying what he wanted for them. So Derek just took it upon himself; was the first to text, first to make plans, first to open up about life.  
And in the case of the first time they ever became even remotely close to being intimate with each other, he had been the first to make the move.  
They'd been just about ready to head back up the beach, surfboards tucked under their arms as Stiles excitedly talked about going home to visit his Dad for the weekend. The second they had reached their little set up of towels and belongings, he'd propped his board up in the sand and sat down in front of it, leaning his back against it with a happy sounding sigh and a smile on his face. Derek followed, head lolling to the side to watch as Stiles started talking again, this time about his friends back home and how he'd managed to wrangle most of them up at once for a few days out on the town. It hadn't been the first that he heard of them, from Scott to Lydia- Lydia being one he had harboured a nearly ten year long crush on. Yeah Derek didn't know whether to like her or be infinitely jealous of her.  
Not that it mattered, because he was the one sitting beside Stiles at the beach and not her. He was the one watching droplets of ocean water make trails down his side and his hair fluff from the salt water and light breeze. Yeah, it was HIM and he took his little moment of self assuredness to reach over and take Stiles hand in his. The other male blinked his eyes open, peered down through thick eyelashes at their joined hands and gave that crooked little smile that got Derek every time. "So, you really were jealous when I told you about Lydia kissing me that time."  
Despite it not being a question, Derek shook his head firmly.  
And then paused, curtly nodded and coughed to clear his throat.  
"Knew it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a lot of Stiles' room for aspects of his interests and a TON of his actual dialogue from the show.  
> I always found his room so interesting because it was a direct representation of his mind. It's p-cool to be able to get into a characters mindset through the way the surround themselves with things they like and things that they subconciously make a habit of having around.  
> Stiles is just a great character someone hold me please until season 6 comes out.


	5. No Matter What Happens, You'll Always Love Her.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ❝ WELL, IT’S LIKE A BEST FRIEND, BUT MORE. IT’S THE ONE PERSON IN THE WORLD THAT KNOWS YOU BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE. IT’S SOMEONE WHO MAKES YOU A BETTER PERSON. ACTUALLY, THEY DON’T MAKE YOU A BETTER PERSON, YOU DO THAT YOURSELF BECAUSE THEY INSPIRE YOU. A SOUL MATE IS SOMEONE WHO YOU CARRY WITH YOU FOREVER. IT’S THE ONE PERSON WHO KNEW YOU AND ACCEPTED YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOU BEFORE ANYONE ELSE DID OR WHEN NO ONE ELSE WOULD. AND NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, YOU’LL ALWAYS LOVE HER. NOTHING CAN EVER CHANGE THAT. MAKE SENSE?
> 
> “What’s a soulmate?” from Dawson Creek —

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely re-visiting this piece in the future because it would be so great to go through the different stages of their friendship-to-relationship including Stiles being a jealous lil poop heh heh heh.

Stiles had always thought that a soulmate was someone made just for you. Someone to balance out your inequalities in ways nobody else was capable of.  
You know, the usual round of thoughts that came with the word soulmate.  
It all changes when Lydia Martin, the girl he's liked since third grade, is thrust into the world of supernatural creatures and in turn is thrust into his life with full force. She had never paid him much attention before their lives collectively went to shit and he doubts she would have given him the time of day had she not been a banshee. They had nothing in common, were from two very different social standings and despite the fact that they were both rather smart...Lydia wouldn't have ever admitted it, much unlike Stiles who would have been rubbing it in faces had he not been so painfully oblivious to it. They were two very different people but Stiles always saw Lydia as his other half.   
It was wishful thinking, he realized, when she became one of his closest friends- she liked guys with certain characteristics, most being ones Stiles simply wasn't. He'd kind of come to terms with the fact that Lydia and he were never meant to be together no matter how much he'd loved her.

They became close over time and through horrific supernatural experiences, their bond strengthened but never really solidified. They were best friends and partners in crime but never anything more. Stiles was okay with that, especially when Malia had come into the picture and literally managed to steal his heart. She was a good person who needed him in so many ways, and he was quickly growing used to having her there for him in ways nobody else was. He thought, maybe, she was his soulmate.  
They had met through some seriously messed up circumstances and come out of them supporting each other, building each other back up, and then worked on making each other better people.

But life has a way of fucking things up, of taking something good and making it bad.  
And Malia not trusting him with something as big as fucking MURDER? Life fucked up their relationship in a very big way, ending with Stiles breaking it off and Malia being kind of okay with it. It took the two of them some time to get over it all, to be able to take a step in the right direction without the other by their side. But it happened, and when that happened they learned some rather important life lessons.

One being that you shouldn't change for another person, but for yourself. And in Malia's case she wasn't quite ready to change things that made her, her. She was a strong, independent girl who was forced to grow up too quickly and she was okay with some of the things she'd picked up on as a coyote that Stiles found to be on the more...socially unacceptable side. And when he see's that fire back in her eyes a few weeks after the break up? He can smile. She's back, the girl who whooped his ass and told it how it was and had no problem just being who she wanted to be. It was hard at first, being around Malia like that when he was supposted to be getting over her; it was like going back to when he'd first fallen for her, when he was kind of awestruck by this amazing girl who had taken a bad situation and made it her bitch. But it got easier as his mind processed the entire unraveling of events between them, as he began to see that they were becoming different people for each other. 

That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Not at all. So when they managed to get over each other and were able to be around each other comfortably, they became something more among the lines of exceedingly close friends. And it was like Lydia all over again, minus the constant pining and wishful thinking.  
Despite it all however, Stiles had recurring thoughts about what he and Lydia had as compared to what he and Malia had. With Malia it was a relationship of push and pull.  
With Lydia it was a friendship, a very strong one, that was more than just taking and giving. It was so much more, and he found that he had little to no words to properly explain what exactly it was that they had built for each other in the few years they had grown close.

So he's understandably distracted, tapping the eraser of his pencil against his desk as he does homework and listens to Lydia spouting off possibilities for Beacon Hills newest baddie from where she was sprawled over his bed on her stomach, tapping away at her phone almost absentmindedly.  
"It could be something completely different though, maybe it's not even in the same classification as ghosts?"  
He's listening, he is, but his mind isn't all there. It's stuck somewhere between Lydia and himself, trying to put two and two together when there isn't much to put together in the first place.  
"Stiles."  
Maybe they're meant to be in each other's lives, meant to be there for each other in a purely platonic way- he doesn't mind the sound of it in his mind but God does he resent the way his heart clenches in his chest at the thought of not being meant to be more for each other.  
"Stiles?"  
They had seen things in each other that nobody else even thought to look for, they understood each other on levels so high that even their closest friends couldn't compute it.  
Damn it, they were meant to be with each other in some way, but Stiles brain couldn't seem to formulate exactly in what way that was supposed to be. It had him white knuckling his pencil, eyebrows furrowed tight in frustration as he glared menacingly down at his half finished homework. They were something now, but they were supposed to be more.  
'Supposed to be' was quickly becoming his most used phrase. He hated it.

With a tired sigh he leaned back in his computer chair and dragged a hand over his face, peeking through his fingers at Lydia who had sat up.  
"Sorry, kinda distracted tonight. Got a lot on my mind apparently."  
He didn't mean for it to come out sounding so huffy and childish, but didn't regret it when Lydia cracked an amused smile and moved to sit on the side of the mattress, left hand patting the spot beside her. She had a glint in her eyes that told Stiles she was curious, probably already working on trying to put together what could be bothering him.  
"Let's talk about it then?"  
And that's why he loved her really, because she would sit down and let him vent or blabber on about something for hours until it finally made sense to him. He loved Lydia for things that he didn't see in other people. So he pulled himself up from his seat and plopped next to the girl who was decked out head to toe in what he imagined was designer brands. So many aspects of Lydia had changed over the years, brought to the surface for all to see. But some things never change and Lydia Martin was still very much into her appearance. But something caught his eye as he looked over at her; there were strands of hair that had fallen out of her bun, her eyeliner was smudged the tiniest bit over her right eyelid. She made no move to fix any of it, and it briefly baffled him- before it made him smile, that is.  
She was getting so comfortable with him, knew he would be the last person to ever judge her, and that made him happier than he thought he had been in a long-ass time.

A petite, manicured hand patted his before resting over it, fingers tightening over his. They sat there quietly for a few minutes, just soaking up the comfortable silence and each other's presence. It wasn't new to them after being together for researching or even just studying together but this felt a little different. For Stiles it was like that last, deep breathe before taking the plunge. He was very open with Lydia and even though this particular conversation would involve his feelings for her, he knew she was aware of them. He'd told her a few times, brought them up in times that he needed her to just UNDERSTAND and he didn't have the patience it took for his brain to come up with another way of telling her. But she was a smart girl, she could see it in his eyes and the way he would put himself between her and the big bad world and he wasn't as afraid of her knowing as he used to be, way back when he was terrified of rejection and heartache. But how could he fear that when he'd already experienced years of it.  
So he spoke up first, with a quick clearing of his throat.

"So....lately my mind is on rewind, kind of like it's stuck on this one thing from the past and it isn't ready to hit the play button yet."  
He can't look at her when he's talking about her, feels kind of like if he looked at her his mouth would overflow and nothing would make sense or come out the way he wanted it to. So he just looks down at their hands, licking his lips in the slight pause it takes for his brain to slow down enough to put things into words that make sense.  
"I keep thinking about how much we've all changed. Like...like you, Lydia. You've changed so much since freshmen year."  
He's tempted to look over at her when he hears her hum in acknowledgement, the way her fingers twitch almost as if she caught herself before she could let go of his hand or tighten her grip. He chooses to go with his gut and looks over at her. She's watching him so intently that he feels the tips of his ears heat with blush.  
"I remember that time you were on a roll with a math equation but stopped when the teacher complimented you on it. Now you just...keep going, like you don't care if people might take it as you being a geek or something equally as stupid."  
She rolls her eyes at that but is smiling, and it makes him feel that much more comfortable with what he's about to dive headfirst into.  
"Lydia you are so smart it's actually kind of ridiculous. You've gotten so fucking GOOD at being yourself that I actually get jealous sometimes. I still...kind of struggle with that. With being open about how I feel and what I'm doing."  
The heaviness that comes with voicing that is enough to stifle Lydia's smile, replacing it with a small frown that has her bottom lip pouting the slightest bit. It's distracting to say the least, and Stiles has to physically distract himself to get back on track, so he fixes a few strands of Lydia's hair and sighs. He's kind of dreading this next bit but he needs to get it done and over with. No more skirting around it.  
"What I'm doing now is kind of- well actually it's something I've been doing for years? It puts me at odds with a lot of the things I understand will never change."  
She reacts with a suspicious tilt of her head, green eyes narrowing. She's too smart for her own good sometimes. When she opens her mouth to say something, he has to put a hand up to stop her. This needs to be put in the open, so he can get his thoughts to shut up and focus. So he can get his feelings back in check.  
The last thing any of them need is for him to be pining over a girl he can't have. Again.  
"Wait, just. Just let me finish and then you can say anything you want, okay?"  
She takes a second to nod, and does so with a slightly annoyed look on her face but Stiles appreciates that she knows him well enough by now to not throw him off when he's on a roll with something. He himself needs a few seconds to put together the words to explain how he feels but when he does, it's like his brain-to-mouth filter is gone and the words spill out at alarming rates.  
"I've loved you for years, you know that, you know how I feel about you and not once have you directly denied that you have any feelings for me too. You were the one person I could always see being in my future, in ways that people like Scotty and even Malia never were. Lydia....you were like that one person I would think about being with for the rest of my life, like you were just MEANT to be in my life."  
By then Lydia's mouth is a flat line but her eyes betray the overwhelming emotions. She looks ready to do one of two things; cry or shut him up so she can say something. He doesn't give her the time for either one.

"I always thought you were like....my soulmate or some cheesy shit, but it's true. I used to sit here and think about what you have that I don't, that balances us out and makes us compatible- but I couldn't really come up with much. And that's when I realized you aren't really my soulmate."  
At that Lydia does something that surprises him, honest to God makes him jump and go wide eyed. She leans over and flicks him on the tip of the nose.   
There are far too many werewolves in their lives.  
"Stiles."  
The way she says his name is almost like a mother berating a child and it makes him want to shrink in on himself. He doesn't though, just rubs at his nose quickly so he can scowl at her for interrupting him. She cocks an eyebrow, doesn't give a single fuck, and continues talking.  
Also something he loves about her.  
"I thought someone as inteligent as you would have at least questioned the stereotypical soulmate principles?"  
When he doesn't confirm her question she turns her entire body to face him, skirt fanning over his bedspread when she curls one of her legs underneath her.  
She looks the tiniest bit putout, but the look changes when she takes his hands into hers hand holds them tight- he hadn't even noticed he was starting to fidget nervously.  
"I never thought a soulmate was someone who was everything you aren't. I like to think that it has a deeper meaning than that, like you need to have something stronger than differences to connect with."  
The more she says, the more into the subject she seems to get and it makes Stiles grin after he's come to realize she isn't making fun of him or even putting him down for his feelings. Not that she would ever do that, not now when they've learned to know each other on these levels.  
He's only human though, and he's allowed to be irrationally afraid.  
"You know that makes sense. Like....puzzle pieces aren't all that different, right? They're from the same thing- made of the same materials and have the same print. Just shaped differently."  
It's meant to be an offering of understanding, acceptance, but the smile that breaks out on Lydia's face tells him it's deeper than that. It's soft and serene and makes him want to say it again so she'll keep that expression on her face long enough for him to really, truly engrave it in his memory. He's seen tears and pain on her face far too often, it's about time he sees this.  
"Exactly."  
It's one word, not spoken loudly or in a way that is meant to leave an impact but it leaves this impression on Stiles like it had been shouted in his face.  
"It's like when you can recognize something in them that nobody else knew to look for in the first place. It's not looking for everything you're not as a person, you have nothing to do with it....it's just them, the other person who grows to be your other half and knows that you will do anything just to be that for them too."  
Her smile goes closed-lip but her eyes still sparkle and her cheeks have the prettiest pink flush to them, and Stiles thinks he understands where she's coming from with this belief. That it doesn't matter if your soulmate makes you whole, as much as it has to do with your soulmate being someone that makes you want to be more than you already are. Makes you want to improve your faults- the very things that people tend to make into the soulmate principle. If you're calm, your soulmate is pure energy. If your soulmate is outgoing and bright, you're shy and dull. But to Lydia it isn't that at all and Stiles thinks that's kind of beautiful.

She just looks at him after that. Looks at him like she had just told him the secret of life.  
He looks right back at her but he's not sure if she's waiting for him to say something, by the look on her face he figures she's damn well waiting. So he shoots her a look, testing the waters, and then takes yet another deep breathe.  
She cuts him off.  
"Like someone who has loved another person for years, someone who saw intelegence when everyone else saw ditzy.....like someone who saw insecurity when everyone else saw bitchy."  
The insinuation in her words hits him like a freight train to the chest.  
"Stiles, you spent years trying to get my attention, spent years knowing me in a way that nobody else does. You put me first for YEARS. And even after you saw me with other people, God Stiles you never once stopped looking at me like I was more important than the world."  
Make that two freight trains.  
"I'm pretty sure what you were saying about soulmates earlier was wrong. Actually I'm positive that over the years I've started to see what you saw in me and Stiles, I've worked so hard to improve myself. To be who I am, the real Lydia Martin- the Lydia you saw."

She doesn't even have to actually say it, but she does anyway and Stiles thinks vaguely that it's more for her than for him.  
She's said it twice that night, that she was sure they were meant to be more than what they were.  
That they were soulmates, two people who would keep each other close throughout life no matter what they ended up being to each other. Much like how they went from two people in the same class to aquaintences to friends- to best friends...and then something just a little bit more. They made it clear that no matter what life threw their way they would be there for each other in any way shape or form that was needed. Stiles may or may not have made a sexual joke that earned him a swat to the back of the head and snort but hey, could you really blame him? Lydia Martin had just gone through the specifics of what a soulmate was to her, and then tagged his name on it at the the end.  
He was over the friggin' moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lately my Stydia feels have been off the charts.   
> I kind of do this thing where I ship literally every pairing just as equally as the others but when it comes to the ones like Stydia and Scallison I kind of have a ginourmous soft spot for them.


	6. For The Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy cuddles, spooning, sharing clothes, what more could you want oh god.

"Man my dad is gonna kill me if I break another bat...." Is what meets Scott's ears when Stiles, holding what was left of a splintered baseball bat, came loping into his room after him. His clothes and skin were damp with rain, his usually maticulously styled hair flopped down over his forehead and eyes- all in all he looked a bit like a soaked kitten, not a new look for him at all whatsoever, and a tad bit like something straight out of one of the more awkward wetdreams Scott would never admit to having when he was younger.  
He watched his friend toss the bat onto his computer chair and then promptly start sheading layers of clothing; his flannel being the first to go. He's working on his pants by the time he gets to the bathroom, the sound of a towel being pulled carelessly from the towel rack following a shouted curse and a bang.  
Scott has to laugh at his best friends antics, getting up to collect all of the wet clothes spread across his bedroom floor. He pauses by the baseball bat, picking it up with a dropped jaw and eyebrows furrowed. He would recognize the stupid thing anywhere, he'd bought it when he was eight years old and deadset on being a pro baseball player when he was older. To say the least he outgrew that one rather quickly when it was made very apparent that he sucked balls at it.  
"Hey, wait a second that one was mine...." A toweled head pops around the corner from inside of the bathroom, whiskey colored eyes big and innocent looking. He knows better than to fall for that act by now. "Yeaaaah sorry 'bout that Scotty boy." A sly grin is tossed his way before Stiles disappears again, the sound of him humming a vaguely familiar song echoing into the bedroom. "I'll buy you another one!"  
Scott shakes his head. His best friend is such a doofus it's actually kind of ridiculous. But then again he would take a bullet for Stiles- or, you know, a thousand if it were to happen that way. He has to remind himself of that sometimes, like when Stiles forgets they have a hangout night planned, but will always remember that Stiles would literally die for him. Had almost succeeded once, actually. His mind darkens at the memories and he has to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to keep himself from delving too far back into the past; Stiles was there, he was safe and definitely not possessed by an infinitely evil Japanese spirit bent on causing as much pain as it could. No, he was singing AC/DC in Scott's shower at the top of his lungs and probably using half of his shampoo while he was at it. And Scott wouldn't have it any other way, unless you counted putting Scott in the shower with him. Then yeah he'd totally have it another way.

Instead he's left to toss Stiles' clothes into the wash with a pile of his own while he waits for his friend to get out of the shower and steal a pair of his pajamas. He figures after the night the pack had lived through that they would be crashing at his place. He wouldn't let Stiles drive home when he was so exhausted that Scott could literally smell it coming off him in waves- plus it was raining and Scott one hundred and fifty percent did not trust all the ductape that made up the innerworkings of that Jeep. Yet another thing to fondly shake his head at when it came to Stiles...there was a list. A rather long one, Scott might add, now that he was getting more comfortable with the more than platonic feelings he'd been steadily developing over the past year and a half. Yup, he was one of those hopeless 'Ive fallen for my best friend' cases that makes everyone pity you and consatantly try to reassure when they know deep down that it's just a waste of time. Stiles was his brother from another mother, his partner in crime since the age of three...he doubted Stiles would ever be capable of seeing him in a romantic, much less sexual, way. Not because he wasn't into guys because he's pretty damn sure he'd caught the kid staring down Derek's ass on multiple occasions. He was just as guilty because the dude was shredded, like male model shredded, and there was no way anyone with eyes could deny that he had one hell of an ass. No, Stiles wasn't exactly straight, but that wasn't the problem.  
The problem was that they had shared life experiences with each other that had strengthened their platonic bond to the point of brotherhood. And here Scott is pining over Stiles like some lovesick teenager- which is exactly what he is.  
He narrows his eyes at that thought and scowls as he heads back to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway when he sees Stiles kind of looking like he's swimming in one of the bigger pajama shirts Scott had stuffed in the back of one of his drawers. His heart may or may not stutter a little bit at the sight.  
The pajama pants fit him a little too well though, especially around the thigh and ass areas, and that little heart stutter turns into an exceedingly dry mouth and awkward attempts to hide his crotch with his hands.

"I remember this shirt from when we were like thirteen what the fuck." Stiles is holding out the bottom hem with raised eyebrows and a highly amused grin. It makes him look younger than he is, his hair starting to curl the slightest bit on his forehead paired with the way his toes wiggle on the carpet like they're cold- it makes Scott want to curl up next to him like they used to when they were little and it wasn't quite so awkward- there was no having to wake up with morning wood, for one. That was always an awkward.  
Not that it had necessarily happened to the two of them more than twice. Both times ending with Scott taking off for the bathroom while Stiles laughs hysterically and makes little fake-feminine cooing noises. Yeah, embarrassing. Let's just stick with one of us sleeping on the floor with a sleepingbag.  
"I never wear it. Just kept it for sentimental reasons, I guess?" Stiles lets out a happy little huff at that, looking down at the giant print of Spider-man on the front.   
"I'm glad you kept it bro." Scott smiles at that, shrugging almost bashfully because the look on his best friends face is just a tad too on the endearing side. It's a good look for him, Scott realizes, and wishes he'd see it more often instead of the careful mask he'd seen since the whole fiasco with the Nogitsune. 

Although lately he'd noticed little slip ups where the old Stiles would shine through. Watching him crawl into his bed like he'd missed it, sprawling out and smothering himself in pillows is kind of one of those slip ups. He looks infinitely content when he lolls his head to the side so he can breathe, a dopey smile on his face. "Dude I have an idea, feeling sentimental (he wiggles his eyebrows at the use of the word)." He pats the bed next to him and Scott immediately suspects the guy can read his mind. "Common, don't be scared I won't bite you buddy." He snorts at his own joke but doesn't stop patting the mattress. When Scott doesn't move, just looks at him with an amused smile and raised eyebrows....Stiles sobers up. It's surprising to say the least, seeing as he'd cracked a joke and made it out to be a joke.  
"No, I mean it. Can we just like....I dunno, man. I kinda miss when we had sleepovers like this."  
The reaction from Scott is nearly immediate, like if he didn't get that look of sadness out of Stiles eyes right that instant his heart would shrivel and die in his chest. So he's kicking off his shoes and climbing into the bed too despite the fact that he'll probably regret it when he wakes up with a fucking boner. 

It feels an odd mix of natural and uncomfortable, chalked up to the fact that they hadn't shared a bed in years. They're laying on their backs, looking up at the ceiling like it's the only place that looks interesting enough for them to actually pay any attention. He feels all the ways Stiles had filled out over the past few years, from his lanky limbs to his too skinny frame...he's got actual muscle mass now, his arms and legs not quite so breakable. He can feel their thighs and shoulders pressed together and it makes his cheeks and ears heat with blush. They'd touched like this plenty of times, he berates himself mentally, why react like this now? It's stupid and immature, he thinks, this is Stiles.   
Stiles who had stuck by his side when he was going through hell. Stiles who exhausted himself on a regular basis just so they could spend time together even if it meant fighting off baddies at three am. Stiles is the person laying beside him, all snuggled up in his blankets and clothes. The thoughts calm him in a way he's not familiar with, have him looking over at the boy next to him curiously- maybe he's freaking out a little bit too?   
But he isn't, far from it actually, he's laying there with his eyes closed and his lips lazily tugged up at the corners. Like he has not a single worry in the world.  
Scott may or may not be a little jealous, just a little bit saddened with the thought of Stiles not feeling anything even remotely close to attraction towards him.  
"Thanks, Scott." It's slurred, sleepy and all kinds of endearing.   
And then a hand reaches over to rest over his and he kind of sort of maybe feels like he's melting into the mattress.  
"No problem man."

It takes five seconds for Stiles to be out like a light and Scott another ten minutes, but eventually he falls asleep.  
He doesn't remember what he dreams about other than the fact that his Mom had been in it.   
He wakes up to the sound of his Mom puttering around in the kitchen, sunlight flooding into his bedroom through his window- why did he have to forget to close the damned curtains last night- and kind of just lays there. He's warm and comfortable, it's a weekend and he has nowhere to be. Plus he's got an armful of Stiles and he smells like Scott's shampoo and body wash. AND SCOTT DOESN'T HAVE A BONER, THANK YOU JESUS.  
He must make some kind of happy noise at the realization because Stiles snuffles loudly, groans- and that's when Scott really takes in the way they're cuddled together.   
They're spooning. Stiles literally glued their hands together while they were sleeping and oh Jesus they were pressed so close.  
He can't decide if it's embarrassing or a dream come true, so he figures he'll just leave the decision making to Stiles when he wakes up. No use in confusing himself when he already knows exactly what he likes and wants. He definitely could get used to spooning Stiles every night, hands locked together and comfortable.  
"Mmh. Five more minutes."  
Apparently Stiles knows what he wants too, Scott can't help but let out an amused snort, and acts on it immediately by hunkering down further under the blanket to tuck his back into Scott's chest just a little bit tighter. It may or may not make Scott feel giddy.

They lay there for a while longer and Scott is just looking over Stiles shoulder at his bedroom wall, at a loss as to what he should be doing other than just laying there.  
No way in hell was he going to get back to sleep, he wouldn't want to. Not when he could be enjoying this to the greatest extent he possibly could, holding Stiles close and nosing at the back of his neck with a smile. So he resignes to being that one creepy person who watches their crush while they sleep.   
No he's not a cheesy motherfucker, he just has a very strong like for the way Stiles looks when he's not stressing out or worrying about other people- which is rare for him.   
Unless, apparently, you get the honor of watching him sleep.  
And Scott intends to do just that. For as long as he can.

'As long as he can' turns out to be around an hour, when Stiles blinks his eyes open and makes this really frigging cute noise in the back of his throat like he's kind of confused.  
He looks first at the bedroom wall, then at the arm around his chest- and then finally turns to bleerily look at Scott over his shoulder. He doesn't look all too surprised, which in turn surprises Scott, just looks like he wants to go back to sleep. His lips are a little swollen from pressing into Scott's arm all night and his hair is sticking up in a few odd directions from having not dried it before going to bed and it does things- so many things- to Scott.  
They kind of just stare at each other for a few minutes, like Stiles can't tell if he's dreaming or awake and Scott just really enjoys looking at him. He might also be looking for hints as to what Stiles thinks of this situation. Maybe.  
Stiles says nothing though, just rubs at his eyes and blinks and keeps looking at him.  
That is until he seemingly realizes that no, he is not dreaming and yes his best friend since the age of three is currently spooning the living hell out of him.  
Then he says something, albeit it sounds gravely with sleep and a little bit like he's still got one foot firmly planted in the dream world.  
"Oh man, am I seriously the little spoon AGAIN?"  
Scott straight up laughs, doesn't ease up at all when Stiles scowls up at him accusingly and then yanks the blanket up over his head- and in turn half way up Scott's face.  
"For the record, I call big spoon tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wheezes*  
> yup definitely gonna re-visit this one in the future, I like Stiles being all like lmao dude I totally thought you knew we were more than just friends by now and Scott's just there like the fuck man?! I HAD NO IDEA?! but yeh ok i do like. and they just hardcore cuddle the shit out of each other and play video games and get all fussy when their date nights get called off for supernatural baddie kick-assery.


	7. Death Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac finds his soulmate after spending his entire school oriented life around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A soulmate au where a persons birth date is usually the mark of your soulmate but for some people who experienced the death of an extremely important person in their life, it's not the mark of a life but the mark of an untimely death.

It's kind of stupid really, how it came about. You would think that after going to school with each other since literally first grade they would have picked up on it.  
But nope, nothing. Stiles had even complained to the entire pack about coming to terms with never finding his soulmate. Despite him being seventeen years old and still having his entire life ahead of him, as was pointed out by Derek. So imagine the amount of sheer shock that hit Isaac when he was stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of a rather important lacrosse game, ball in net and only a few feet away from possibly making the winning shot- because he'd, for the first time since joining the pack, caught a decent view of Stiles' soulmate mark. It was just below his ribs, in small script.   
And God it sent the worst amount of adrenaline through Isaac's veins because that looked a whole lot like his birth date, and it had only been a quick flash from a player from the opposing teams lacrosse stick snagging on the shoulder of Stiles' uniform when he attempted to body check him out of the way. He knew Stiles' birth date, had literally been shoved down to the kitchen one night by Scott to celebrate his birthday with Melissa and the Sheriff. So it's not like he could look at his own soulmate mark and know it was Stiles right? The numbers didn't match, not even remotely. If it had been, Stiles would have been born when Isaac himself was eight years old.  
It's disheartening to suddenly think about his soulmate mark being a birth date now that he's actually had the opportunity to think someone was his soulmate.

He's brought back to reality by none other than Stiles stumbling into his back, almost making him drop his lacrosse stick and in-turn the ball. But instead he catches himself and takes the shot. It's not the winning shot but it does add another point to the scoreboard, makes the entire Beacon Hills side of the bleachers flip shit. It's a pretty great feeling.  
But it's taken away from by the way Stiles walks back to his starting position with a slight limp to his step. His mind immediately tells him to protect, to avenge his soulmate even though he doesn't think it's really him. None the less he finds himself sticking to Stiles side like glue for the rest of the game, having gotten used to giving in when it comes to instinct- kind of comes with being a werewolf, he thinks. It's stupid how happy it makes him though, just being able to plow through a few of the guys who had been able to knock Stiles right off his feet. Like he was actually doing his job at being a good soulmate even though it had nothing to do with being someone's other half.  
Or maybe it did, he didn't fucking know anymore. All he knew was that the prospect of this being REAL had him itching to pull Stiles aside and fully interrogate him until they came to a conclusion of what this meant.

Not knowing kind of screwed him up though, made him a bit wreckless at the end of the game and had him practically throwing himself at Stiles for hugs and praise. Which he didn't get, nope instead he got a chest bump- that knocked Stiles off his feet- and then a truly Stiles worthy high five.  
He's admittedly pouty afterwards, huffy even when Scott tugs him into the locker room to shower and change. He doesn't let Stiles out of his sight for even a second, watches him peel off his lacrosse gear and then waits in baited silence with the most anticipation he'd possibly ever experienced while he watched him strip out of his under armour shirt.  
Right there, under the left side of his ribcage, is Isaac's birth date.   
He literally feels the air leave his lungs so fast it's like a freight train slammed into his back. Why had he never noticed before, why had he never LOOKED for it before? Stiles was an attractive guy, had a great personality and sense of humor to boot. He'd stolen a few glances here and there, sure, but Stiles was never overly fond of showing off his body. Isaac had always given him the privacy he wanted in the locker room, even when he was near desperate a few times to see what was under those loose flannel shirts and sweatshirts, because he knew damn well how it felt to be denied something that made you feel safe. He would be the last person to ever force Stiles into something he didn't want to do.  
That included showing other people his own body. But this....this had a rather important meaning behind it.   
And he would be absolutely damned if he didn't do what he was about to.

He dropped his lacrosse gear on the floor and took Stiles by the arm, gently, to turn his body away from the locker in front of him. Stiles' eyes went big, round and even scared for a second before they just went straight up angry. It was a look Isaac had never been fond of, not on Stiles who was meant to smile- he had a gorgeous smile even though he'd voiced a few times that he hated how it made him look like a hyena. It totally didn't.  
The entire locker room quickly went quiet, almost all eyes on them as they stood there in awkward, tense silence just looking at each other. He wasn't sure how to go about talking about being someone's soulmate; he'd never been in this position before, not even remotely close. Was he supposed to just dive right in and ask him if he knew that was actually his birthday? Or maybe he was supposed to ease in, like just casually drop it in a sentence about something completely different? Both sounded wrong as he thought them, and he found himself shaking his head to clear all thoughts before just pointing down at the numbers.  
"That's my birthday."  
Someone gasped, was cut off by a sharp elbow to the side, presumably Scott and Liam. A few other people whistled as if they had been watching something highly inappropriate- oh God he really hoped they weren't picturing him and Stiles being together. INTIMATELY. He couldn't even manage a mental image of them kissing without feeling like he'd been dunked into boiling water.  
Okay so maybe that was a hint. But Stiles looked anything but....dunked. He looked shell shocked, eyes huge where they were looking down at his torso, twisted so he could see better. "Holy shit...." It was whispered, loud enough for Isaac to pick up with his enhanced hearing but quiet enough for most of the lacrosse team not able to hear. "Holy shit, Isaac, that's YOUR birthday?"  
He nods curtly, feeling almost like he was dreaming. Like his heartrate slowed and his brain function had just...stopped. He doesn't have Stiles' birth date on his ribs though.   
No, it's not even close...and with that little reminder comes disappointment. Especially when Stiles takes the hem of his shirt and lifts it up, sees that they have the same exact mark area- and then suddenly goes white as a sheet. He can hear Stiles' heartbeat stutter and then speed up tenfold, can hear the way his breathing escilates to the point of hyperventilation and then watches his eyes whell up with tears. Did he just unnecessarily break someones heart? Did he just get Stiles' hopes up only to utterly CRUSH them?  
This is so not the way he'd been picturing things going back on the field, and certainly not how he wanted them to go had he been wrong about it all.  
He never wanted to be the cause of someones tears, of someone elses pain or anguish. Especially someone as utterly selfless and, well, amazing, as Stiles. 

He doesn't have to think twice before pulling Stiles into his arms for a tight hug, feeling wetness on his shoulder from tears soaking into the material of his shirt. Everyone goes dead silent, some sympathizing with the discovery of not being a soulmate while others feel downright uncomfortable seeing something so private.  
Scott's about three steps away from joining the hug when Stiles quietly says something that turns the tables completely.  
"My mom died in 2004 Isaac."  
Despite knowing the numbers on his ribs like the back of his hand Isaac leans away and shucks his shirt off in .5 seconds to look at the date; it makes Stiles flinch hard and look away, makes Scott gawk at him like a fish out of water.....and makes Isaac's heart do this weird thing where it flips and then sinks because holy shit he has the date of his soulmates Mother permanently tattooed on his skin. But on the other hand this is his SOULMATE that is standing in front of him. Stiles Stilinski, the single most incredible person he'd ever met. It's like he doesn't quite know what to do, how to react, what to say.  
Stiles on the other hand knows what to do and doesn't waste a single fucking second doing it- grabs him by the face and presses their lips together like he'd done it a million times, right in front of the entire lacrose team. And by the sounds Scott makes low in his throat he expects a full round of 'if you hurt my best friend i hurt you, pack member or not.' the second they break apart.

And boy does he get the talk. For hours. From three different adults- and an alpha. He's sat at the Stilinski kitchen table for what feels like days with Stiles clutching at his hand out of sight, resting on his thigh in an attempt to ease the tension in his shoulders. It's like stepping back in time, back to when his father would confront him at the dinner table and scold him. The difference however is that these people are doing this out of love and concern, he knows this, and it makes him feel a little better. But it doesn't change the fact that this is ingraned into who he is as a person, this fear of having someone he loves hurting him out of spite.  
So the second the adults have decided they'd done enough explaining and warning, Isaac is up and out of his seat with Stiles not far behind. They make it to Stiles' bedroom before either of them can have a breakdown, door closed and space quiet between them.  
"You know, I kinda hated you back when you were first bitten." Stiles says it like he's stating a fact and Isaac thinks it should hurt more than it does, but he also thinks he knows that Stiles has every right to hate him. He'd tried to get to one of his close friends- and at the time crush- and even conspired with Erica and Derek to make sure his precious Jeep was undrivable. Nobody messes with the Jeep and simply walks away without any resentment aimed their way. Even if they were his soulmate, apparently.  
So, he nods. Totally gets it. And the laughter that earns him is enough to make him smile nice and wide, happy and comfortable with his newfound connection.  
"Dude you're supposed to be angry about that. Why are you just rolling over and accepting it like that- is it because you know I'm your solemate now?"  
His voice has a tone to it, almost suspicious or accusing, and Isaac wants to roll his eyes. "No, it's because you had every right to hate me. I was kind of an asshole."  
Stiles beats him to it with an eye roll of epic proportions as he plops down into his computer chair, looking up at him through thick eyelashes and furrowed eyebrows. "Okay yeah but still, if you ever said you hated me I'd be pretty upset."  
The smiles back, full force with no end in sight. Stiles cares about what he thinks of him, knew he did as a member of the pack, but hearing him say it out loud is like having it finally being confirmed. He cares. "Aw, you would? Just because of something I said?"  
Isaac may have been smiling when he latched onto Stiles for hugs and cuddles and kisses but Stiles was far from it, in fact he looked more fakely putout than anything before he was forced to show the way he honestly felt in that moment.  
Isaac may or may not have tickled him mercilessly to get the frown off his face. May or may not have kissed him to get him smiling again.  
May or may not have manhandled him into the bed to spoon him until he was one hundred percent sure his soulmate wasn't pissed at him.  
And was promptly interrupted by Scott joining them, talking about how great it would be to start hanging out as a foursome when Allison came back from her summer spent in France. Finally, other people in the pack could understand how it felt to love someone so wholely and completely.  
Finally.

Isaac can't help wondering if this is the same way Scott had been 'initiated' into the Argent family when they'd discovered that Allison was his soulmate.  
From take out with Stiles and the Sheriff to the nights he'd been booted out when they got into a small, petty argument. Like Stiles' father was afraid he would actually hurt his son. It seems like he's the only one going through it until Scott sits him down after class one afternoon and tells him that life doesn't suddenly smooth out and become easy just because you found your other half. Nope, it just makes the bumps a little easier to get over. Gives you someone to share feelings with, someone to vent too when you need it.  
And Stiles is great for that, is a fantastic listener. But he finds it hard to completely open up when they've only been dating a few weeks.  
A soulmate isn't love at first sight, it's not some fantasy romance that happens over night. It's a presence in your life that can be built upon, strengthened over time with the right amount of care. And not for the first time, Isaac can see why Scott is a true alpha. How he's able to pull his pack members out of a dark place with some words and a few friendly touches.  
He thinks he could learn a few things from Scott, and ultimately does when he realizes he's started to actually focus on the foundation of what he had with Stiles instead of using it as an excuse to touch and be loved and cared for without any guilt attached.

He starts noticing things about Stiles that really do make him his metaphorical other half. From the way he knows how to talk him down to the way he fits perfectly against him when they sleep. Little things here and there that he never paid much mind before they became what they are. If he had noticed, he would have pursued Stiles a hell of a lot sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude I hate this piece so much. I re-wrote this oneshot THREE TIMES and then ended up editing chunks of it multiple times too and I'm at the point where I wanna move onto the next one because this one didn't connect with my muse the way I wanted it tooooooo *whines*


	8. The Needle and The Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Stiles had been a banshee back when Allison was killed by the Oni?  
> What if he had predicted her death and gone against will to make sure it never happened?  
> How would that change them as people, the pack as a whole and every adventure thereafter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration was strong with this one and I literally whipped this baby out in less than two hours *snuggles this au*  
> Allison alive and Stiles a Banshee, oh man do I like this au.

Allison has learned to recognize the ticks Stiles had developed over the past year, the ones that meant he was being talked to from the other side and the ones that meant someone was going to die. She knew this side of him better than most, less than some. Stiles was an open book, laid out for the enjoyment of whoever wanted to read and Allison was always up for a good read. Especially when it came to the person who had pushed himself to his limits just to make sure she didn't die.   
It had been her that Stiles was screaming for way back when they were up against the Nogitsune. It was also her that Stiles literally dragged himself over too, literally used the last reserved energy he had just to make sure the voices in his head would stop screaming for her.  
She remembers him mumbling that they couldn't have her, not Allison, not her. Remembers the way he latched onto her hand and held as tightly as he could, cried and said over and over again that she was okay....like he was reassuring someone who needed to hear that they were alright. But Allison was okay, shaken up of course but okay. It had been him who needed that assurance.

It always has her heart beating that much faster, thinking about the change in their friendship because of that night. Stiles had jumped from friend to more- so much more, in what felt like the blink of an eye. He would go through periods of time where he needed her, needed to see that she was alive and not rotting in the ground in some cemetery.  
He would call her at two in the morning, voice shaky and thick with tears and sleep and she would know to sneak out her bedroom window and into his without him really ever having to ask. He had nightmares, ones where she died and he was left with her voice in his head- repeating like a broken record, "save me, save me, save me" and he couldn't turn it off. Not until he could stand there, in his bedroom, and actually feel her under the palms of his hands. See her standing there in her pajamas with bedhead and no make up on, but still so pretty. 

They started what Allison called a necessary relationship; sleeping together during most nights, holding hands when either one of them needed to be grounded. It was like they were together in spirit, but not in the physical world. It worked for them for a while, this thing with no emotional strings attached. But Allison had lost Isaac and Stiles Malia when they started kicking things up a notch without truly realizing they'd changed anything between them. 

It started with Allison's thumb brushing over Stiles' knuckles when they held hands in school, escelated to Stiles hugging her like he wanted to meld their bodies into one, singular being. And then it had ended with a desperate, almost impulsive kiss after Stiles had nearly popped everyone's eardrums one night- Allison's being the worst as she'd been standing directly beside him when he screamed. Isaac had looked like a kicked puppy where he stood beside Scott, his eyes full of sadness, hurt and betrayal. But it was Malia that truly put an end to things for the four of them.   
She was a loud, strong girl with a will of iron and boy did she know how to use it all to her advantage; she'd laid into him so hard it actually made him cower in fear, watching her wolf- err, coyote?- out and then stomp off only to not be seen for nearly a week straight. She was angry, had yelled about coyotes mating for life, that Stiles had been HERS. But she came to terms with how things changed for them all, came to terms with the fact that Allison had kind of always been at the back of his mind, always would be.

From there things are easier. They seemlessly fall into their life together, from what it means to fall in love to having their first fight. It's easy for them, almost comes naturally for the most part. But something they never truly get a good grasp on is the fact that one of them is a supernatural hunter and the other is a banshee. They accept it, work around it even, but never really sit down and have a talk about it. It just never happens. Not after Allison has to kill someone, not after Stiles finds dead bodies or screams a classmates name. They don't bring it up and they're one hundred percent okay with that particular aspect of THEM not being worked through.  
A hunter and a banshee are not the ones dating, kissing, holding hands. It's just two high schoolers, high on life and love and ready to make something more with what they have.

But sometimes life and love aren't necessarily enough and they learn that lesson faster than either of them had cared for.  
Theo Raeken had taught them a lesson or two about what it meant to be truly TOGETHER. From a friendship to a relationship, Theo had no problem meddling in either. And boy did he meddle. Scott started doubting, more and more as their understanding of the supernatural became evermore out of reach. He doubted more than just himself, eventually started doubting most of the pack. Allison was torn up about it, had voiced very bluntly that Scott had no reason to doubt anyone. But it all came to a head when Stiles had been attacked....and for the first time, he had been the cause of one of his screams. It was self defense, one hundred percent, but the strain it all put on him was something he couldn't also put on everyone else. So he kept it to himself, didn't even tell Allison until she put the pieces together for herself and gently, in a truly Allison-like way, sat him down and talked it all out. It was times like that, that Stiles could say he fell in love all over again with her; the way she held his hand, rubbed his shoulder like she was afraid of pressing to hard, of breaking him. She was a gentle, kindred spirit with a flair for strength and independence and doing the right thing. It made her kind of perfect.  
But that entire situation backfired, was brought to light when Theo decided that it was about time Scott knew one of his best friends and pack members had "murdered".  
Taken a life, yes. But having done it on purprose, or even out of hatred or anger? No, not in a million years.  
Stiles, the one person that Scott knew damn well would never take a life, not even when his own life was in danger- had proven that time and again- was thought to have killed someone out of pure hatred.

It took a screaming match, a whole lot of begging and pleading, and even then it took actual proof...but Stiles was let off the hook. Scott had changed that night outside of Deaton's clinic, and so had Stiles for that matter. For all of the years of friendship those two had under their belt, it would take some serious trust building for them to ever be on the same level again. And it was Allison who had managed to kickstart it all.   
For a while Stiles resented his best friend for that, hated that it took his ex girlfriend screaming at him to smarten up and THINK about what he knew about Stiles, and his own word meant nothing. No trust, no belief. Stiles wasn't enough. 

For Allison it was a welcomed challenge to throw herself right into the frey, to fix things that needed fixing and strengthen bonds that needed strength.  
It's what she was good at; what she knew she could always do for the people in her life, the ones that meant the world to her. Stiles and Scott happened to be two of the people she would take a bullet for and she would be damned if she let them fall apart because of someone like Theo.  
So she jumped in. She, of course, enlisted a few other people to help her out but all in all it was pretty successful. As far as she could tell, the two boys had begun rebuilding the pillars of their friendship together, not in a way that they particularly MEANT to but in a way that was natural to them. They had something special, she could see that, and eventually she stepped back and just watched them flourish again- all dirty jokes, sentimental hugs and words of platonic love.

But that didn't stop the way Stiles had felt through it all. The guy had been through hell...and then went through a taste of it again, just in a different form.   
Nobody truly recovers from what he'd been through, no chance in hell. But Allison was there, determined, and willing. Never had she been the type to turn her back on someone who needed her help like Stiles did and she wasn't about to start. She may or may not have been biased as well.  
Just a little bit. Or, you know, a lot. She loved him after all. Made sure to tell him every chance she got because the look in his eyes sometimes made her heart break for him.

It became a constant, the way sadness would hover over him no matter how content with life he seemed to be- and it continued through more than just their High School career, all the kicking of supernatural baddie ass and the challenges life brought with the teen years.  
It carried over into their frehmen year at college as well. He'd wake up screaming, drenched in cold sweat from a horrific nightmare including Oni and Theo and occasionally even Peter- but Allison was there, no matter how much it hurt her to see him go through it she never left. Even when it would around full circle and he would tend to close himself off, being driven to madness by more than just the voices in his head and the unreal ammount of time he spent awake and studying instead of getting much needed sleep. He was falling apart in front of her for years and she did her best to holding together but it didn't get better until she finally realized something.  
He may have been the thread holding everyone together but even the strongest of threads can frey over time.   
And Stiles was freying from overuse, harsh conditions and rough handling. It was psychological and emotional, and more often than Allison would ever have wanted for him...physical.

It's the first time they make love that really puts things into perspective. Not only for Allison but for Stiles as well, and she notices a change in his demeanour. The way he'd been at the world was drastically different in all the right ways; she could see the sincerity in his smiles again, could see that twinkle in his eyes that used to hint towards mischief.  
It's like she's getting her boyfriend back bit by bit, little changes dropping at the most random of times. It makes her happier than she could have ever imained being back when they'd still been in Beacon Hills.  
And it was with Stiles of all people that she found life to be, for the first time, truly peaceful. Perfect. She used to picture herself and Scott being married with kids and the perfect little white picket fenced house, even when she was with Isaac. But somewhere along the way it changed. Was brought into focus like she'd taken her entire mindset and placed it under a microscope. She saw an entire lifetime spent with Stiles, a happy one full of laughter (never something there was a shortage of with him) and with laughter came smiles and happiness and just all around peace. It came by the time they were in their second year of college, with Stiles back to the boy she had met for the first time in High School.  
He'd started over, wiped the slate clean and began a whole new life for himself- with Allison tagging along because no way in hell was he letting her go after all she had done for him and all he'd done for her. And it was that very mindset that brought him to what he'd done that year for the both of them and their future; Proposing to Allison Argent was a terrifying thing, seeing as her father could have him dead in .5 seconds and had, on multiple occasions, shown him his entire gun collection.   
It included the grenades and bows. And the knives. Daggers. You know, the works.  
ALL OF IT.  
And then told him he knew how to use them all, to just remember that Allison was all he had left and if she was ever harmed emotionally or physically- he'd be armed to the teeth and ready for blood.

So. Proposing to Allison. Yeah, that happened.   
It also happened that she said yes but wanted to wait until they finished school.

.....That didn't happen- not when someone like Stiles Stilinski gets his mind set on something. Nope. Not a chance.  
So a year and three months later, Allison Argent is married to not only a cop but a cop working on his degree- smartass likes to wipe that in everyones faces because yes he's smart, a genius if he does say so himself- and working on putting down payments on their first actual home together. Their flat doesn't count, isn't theirs as much as it's the landlorads for as long as they pay the rent. So they're left pinching pennies for months after their abrupt honeymoon but neither complains because they've got more than just money on their minds. They have an entire future to plan out, after all.


	9. Offer Still Stands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time an assassin was using his lacrosse stick of death to kill people off could have taken a drastic turn if Danny had been a supernatural creature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This oneshot is set during the lacrosse game where the pack are like oh man Liam gon' get killed- but in reality The Orphans were trying to kill off Brett for the deadpool.  
> It's how things would have gone if Danny knew about the supernatural because he WAS supernatural. Which means he was on the deadpool that hadn't been code cracked by Lydia yet, and the pack have no idea he even acknowledges any of it exists.

It happens the second Stiles realizes it isn't Liam they're after, his eyes zeroing in on the person with the lacrosse stick/assassin weapon weilding lunatic is closest too.  
It's Danny, and as he watches the assassin heading straight for him with the pointy, glinting end of what looked like a fucking knife attached to the butt-end of his lacrosee stick....he does the first thing his mind can think to do. It's what he labels his Hero Complex because his body does this completely out of muscle memory; he makes a b line for his team mate, plows into his side as hard as he possibly can with all of his gained momentum and literally ends up sticking himself in the ribs with what feels like two steel blades.  
He can hear the people in the stands booing him for body checking his own team member but he's a little busy trying not to get the fucking knives twist in his skin, a little too busy trying to glare daggers into the kids eyes when he hears a laugh- the assassin is LAUGHING. "You weren't the one I was after but you annoy the hell out of me so I can settle for now." He grunts lightly when he yanks his lacrosse stick back, grinning in a sickeningly satisfied way at the sound the blades make against bone and flesh.

Things go haywire after that. Danny is up on his feet and standing between the two of them with his arms thrown up in exasperation, his helmet left forgotten on the ground as he tries to figure out why two of his own team mates were trying to sabotage their own lacrosse game- Liam and Scott are running at them with eyes big and frantic, lacrosse gear thrown carelessly on the ground where Scott had been practically guarding Liam the entire game...and then there's Stiles himself. He feels like things are slowing down, time and space and everything between. He isn't in pain, not like he had been with the knives in his side. Now he feels almost numb. Like his blood is temperatureless where it's making his under armour stick to his torso, dripping down to be absorbed into the hem of his shorts. It's not warm and slippery like people say it is, it's just THERE. 

And then Danny is there too, not temperatureless like his blood but warm and firm and real as he presses the palms of his hands hard against Stiles' ribs. The world fast forwards then, back to where it's supposed to be, and he can feel the ground under his back and the chaos swarming the field as people shout for paramedics and HELP because someone's been stabbed- and oh, yeah, Stiles had been stabbed that's right. He can distinctively pick out voices he knows and nearly has a heart attack when he hears how close Danny really is. "Oh my God, Stiles you're bleeding." The response is instantanious, no brain to mouth filtering, although it comes out sounding garbled and wet with the coppery taste of blood on his tongue. "No way, I totally h-hadn't noticed!" It's worth the look Danny gives him.

However it isn't worth the literal mouthful of blood it earns him, freaking not only himself out but also the number of people gathered around him. It drips from his lips and onto the chest of his lacrosse padding- which Scott helps him get off immediately after someone off to their right is telling them they need to put more pressure on the actual wound- and it's fascinating how the fibers of not only the padding but also his under armour shirt obsorb it. It puddles and shines and then starts to turn an oddly pretty red as it spreads into circular shaped splatters. The pressure being reapplied, this time directly over his ribs, is unlike any pain he's ever felt before and has him jolting where's being held upright against Danny's chest. He's mildly disgusted by the way saliva and blood bubble against his lower lip but it's gone fast, replaced by a loud scream when he feels one of the hands on him slip in the blood- and in turn push down on the sensitive inner side of his ribcage. "Jesus fuuuuck don't- don't DO that!"   
Danny is cringing when he looks up at him through his eyelashes, caring eyes wet with tears and skin paled in comparison to the usual shade of caramel that had Stiles dry mouthed and literally falling over himself through most of his freshmen year. Yeah, he'd harboured one too many confused boners over this guy. Sue him.  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to hurt you. Is this okay?" His voice is absolutely wrecked with panic but it's still managed a soft tone, scared and very much a testiment to why so many people held him near and dear simply because of how kindhearted he was. It brings back a few memories, a few of those feelings he'd been so positive he had gotten over.

He's nodding a lot faster than he thought in response, chin bouncing against the top of his chest a few times. It hurts but not nearly as much as it had with the amount of pressure being put on the wrong spot. And that's his last coherent thought, that Danny's hands on him didn't feel half bad. Everything else fades around the edges, the uproar from the games spectators is dulled and eventually becomes a low rumbling in his ears that sounds kind of like the ocean, is kind of soothing. It makes him feel tired, paired with the heat radiating off of the chest at his back- and then he's struggling to keep his eyes open. They feel like they're being weighed down with lead until he slips up and closes them once. Just a blink, he thinks, just one blink.

And then he's opening his eyes to new, unfamiliar faces in his line of sight and Danny isn't holding him up anymore, he's laying on the ground with an oxygen mask laid over his face and he feels boneless. Doesn't even react when he's lifted up and moved onto a stretcher, feels like he's floating even when the stretched his loaded into the back of an ambulance and he's jostled a little bit. It's the weirdest fucking thing, he thinks to himself, how he's pretty sure he sees Danny's lacrosse number on the back of a uniform as someone sits down beside him and takes hold of his hand with big, rough hands. He thinks it's not him though, couldn't be Danny because Danny is a soft person- he'd have soft hands too. But then he hears DANNY choking out a laugh beside him and feels a thumb gently swipe over the back of his hand. "You got the good stuff, what else do you think about me?" And just like that the dam breaks open, words jumbled and spilling out of his mouth without abandon. How he thinks Danny has a Fantastic body- with a capital F- and a really stinkin' cute laugh that makes his tummy flip sometimes. He shouldn't be saying these things but it feels good to talk and not focus on the feeling of a fucking HOLE in his torso. So he keeps talking and as time passes he realizes he's only talking because he likes the way his voice sounds.

He's still chattering up a storm when the EMT's pull into the hospital's ER underhang and Danny is still listening intently, but with the added bonus of relief written on his face as he's allowed to keep close as they walk the stretcher into the hospital and down to a set of double doors. There are people in the waiting area who look at Stiles like they fear him, or what happened to him, and it makes him sleepily curl his upper lip and loll his head in the other direction. Which means he doesn't get to see when Danny is forced to let go of his hand and watch as he's wheeled off to a different section of the hospital. It freaks him the fuck out immediately, suddenly has the very strong urge to call out for someone- anyone he knows he'll be safe with. So he starts asking for Melissa, asking for his Dad- "My dad, my Dad is the SHERIFF, I need my Dad!" And they let his yell for a few minutes, try to calm him down. But they're impatient, need to stop the bleeding they say, and someone's sticking the inside of his left elbow with a needle that makes him feel very suddenly exhausted.

It's like he blinked and time skipped. He opens his eyes and he's being talked to, his hair is being gently brushed off his forehead, a hand is resting on his shoulder. It's bright and he feels the familiar sensation of someone's caloused fingers wrapped around his fingers. He wakes up a second time in a dark room, feeling warm and comfortable and relaxed to the max. He's wrapped up in a warm blanket, can feel EKG wires resting over his left shoulder and an IV tube taped to the top of his hand. He registers that he's probably drugged up by the way his mind and motor functions are sluggish, lifts his hand to test his theory and is proven correct when his wrist kind of just....flops. It's amusing the first couple of times he does it but quickly becomes frustrating when he spots the call button and wants to get a BIG glass of water because his throat and mouth feel uncomfortably dry and scratchy. It's when a hand comes into view and helps him wrap his fingers around the button that he notices the presence of another person. "Hey kiddo, you need something?"

Dad! Is the immediate response, but the state of his throat isn't exactly on par and he ends up letting out this horrendous little wheezing cough that makes a twinge of pain race up his spine. "Hey, hey easy. Just relax alright? I go grab Melissa." Stiles feels like a child as he reaches out for his Father's hand, desperately trying to keep him close. But he's left watching his back as he leaves the room, fully blaming the way his eyes whell with tears on the pain killers. Not five seconds later the door is opening though and Scott is looking about ready to jump on the hospital bed the second he's got Stiles in his sight. The look in his eyes is almost crazed, infinitely relieved but so, so not SCOTT. "Jesus Christ Stiles I thought you were gonna die." Combating the crazed puppy eyes is a whimpering voice, sounding miserable and exhausted as the bed dips and suddenly he's a careful armful of Scott. "Garrett, he was after Danny." The crack of his voice is dry and uncomfortable but his mind is whirring with the information it had picked up, he needs to tell Scott everything, needs to protect Danny. He's just a human like him, h- woooooah wait a minute. Stiles feels like he's been suddenly struck by lightning but Scott starts talking, oblivious to the fact that Stiles was just then computing what had happened back at the game. He wants to talk over Scott but his throat is not having a single second of it.  
"I know buddy, he was trying to off him with wolfsbane. Isn't that why you shoved him out of the way?" The way Scott says it is like he's accepted completely that Danny was a supernatural creature which Stiles doesn't find hard to believe in the slightest, but for him it's more than a shock. How had he never seen it before? Why doesn't he remember seeing anything supernatural-y about Danny...? He'd done his fucking research. Hours upon hours of it. He feels a little huffy about it not coming in handy with identifying others like Scott or Lydia or Kira. The use of wolfsbane leads him to believe Danny is like Scott in the sense that they're both.....werewolves. It sounds odd, even in his mind.  
"Danny's a wolf?" The look Scott gives him says he's annoyed Stiles had bypassed his question, but it disappears just as quickly as it appeared.

"He's been sitting out in the waiting room all night, waiting to thank you for...well, escentialy saving his life." Stiles thinks Scott is getting revenge in the form of bypassing HIS question for a few moments but is proven wrong when his Dad quietly walks into the room. He looks surprised to see Scott practically smothering his son in a hug and shooes him off with a disaproving look so he can sit down on the side of the hospital bed. He has a cup of water with a straw in one hand and the other takes his, wrapping his fingers around the side to gauge if he's got enough strength to actually hold it up. Apparently he doesn't and is seconds away from spilling an entire cup of water down his front. Beofre he can even make a sound of distress there's a straw in his mouth.  
He wants to laugh at the suddenness of it but is immediately gulping down as much water as he can manage without feeling sick, eyes slipping closed in pure fucking bliss. Man was he thirsty. "Melissa's on her way, she's just gonna check up on things. See how you're doing." The best he can manage is a curt nod as he attempts to empty the entire cup, enjoying the feeling of cold water running down the dry back of his throat. A silence settles over them then, not tense but a tad uncomfortable. It's broken by Melissa coming into the room, her face lighting up with a smile when she see's him sitting up slightly and actually awake.

The process of checking vitals and changing his bandage is so mundane that he actually ends up falling asleep. The feeling of gentle hands on him is more comforting than he imagined it to ever be; makes him realize how much he truly appreciates and trusts Melissa. It also makes him miss his Mother. He dreams about her, the way she used to be before she got sick. She was a beautiful woman with the brightest smile and a twinkle in her eyes that he'd never seen in anyone elses. Like she was high on life and wouldn't trade it for the world. He loves when he has those dreams, the ones that are so vivid he can practically count the freckles over the bridge of her nose. But he hates them just as equally because a dream is just a dream- you have to wake up some time. This time he wakes up slowly, gradually. Like everything is coming into focus through a camera lense instead of through his eyes.  
It's brighter in the hospital room and he's not quite as muddled as he had been the last time he'd been awake. He's still hooked up to machines and the stupid heart monitor clipped onto the tip of his finger is just as heavy and annoying but he's thankful for the fact that his thoughts aren't as hard to put together and into words. His mouth is dry again, not nearly as bad as the previous night, and he finds himself smacking his lips together in an attempt to wet them.   
It doesn't work. But it does grant him an odd sound from somewhere off on the other side of the room, like a shoe scuffing the floor. "Stiles?" Ah. So it had been reality and not in his mind. "Mmh?" The relieved sigh that sounds off to his side, much closer then, has him turning his head with a stiff neck to look over at an exceedingly tired looking Danny. The guy is still in his lacrosse under clothes, smeared with what Stiles realizes is his blood. He's mildly horrified. Why did he have to go and bleed all over the one person who was probably the most likely to freak out about it?  
"Are....Are you in any pain?" It's small and quiet sounding, complete with a cautious expression and eyes that look red with tears and lack of sleep. All in all it makes Stiles heart sink with guilt, and even though he can definitely feel the pain meds wearing off he shakes his head in denial. "Nah, fine and dandy here. Just a little...." His mind doesn't formulate the rest of his attempt at whitt and instead settles for leaving him narrow eyed and slightly slack jawed. Danny's face brightens at that though, his lips tugging up at the corners to reveal pearly white teeth. Stiles may or may not wonder what Danny would have answered when he asked if he was attractive to gay men. "Doped up?" Is supplied with a chuckle and Stiles kind of does this dumb little nod, mouth still open enough for him to notice that even his fucking JAW aches. Nowhere near his torso but still just as obnoxiously in pain apparently. Danny settles back into the chair beside his bed with a happy little closed mouth smile, watching him in a way that makes him feel like he's being inspected more than observed. He must have been right, he thinks, because Danny scoots forward and drops his hand palm side up on the bed, watching his hand intently.

Belatedly Stiles realizes that Danny was waiting for his hand, and nearly jerks the IV out of his vein with how fast he slaps his palm against Danny's, shrinking back a little at how loud of a clap it makes. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you, Stiles." Danny's other hand comes up to take his entire hand between both of his own and gives him this LOOK. Like he was looking at something more precious than gold. "Really....you have no idea." Stiles wants to object to that when his mind catches up with what he's being told, because Danny is the type of person who is an open book. When he feels a certain about someone he'll project it, no hesitation. Stiles knows there are times he annoys the other boy, but there also times when Danny makes it fairly obvious that he considers Stiles to be a good friend- a good person.   
But he doesn't really get the chance to say this out loud. Or in his mind for that matter. He's about to open his mouth when Danny is suddenly very much so all up in his personal space, eyes closed and head tilted and oh sweet Jesus he's totally going for it.

And go for it he does, presses their lips together with a soft hum and this little thing he does with his teeth when he pulls away- it makes Stiles shiver, makes him sit there in a daze with his lips parted for a good three minutes. It's everything he ever wanted it to be, all those times he thought about what it would feel like to kiss another guy. It's not rough or dominating in any way, just soft and careful and even a bit hesitant at first but never once did it feel like he was doing something wrong. It's a great feeling knowing that he for sure wasn't just second guessing his sexuality when he would pop a boner in the locker room. Or in class. Or- okay you get the hint Stiles was a horny teenage boy for fucksake. Even with a buttload of stitches in his side and a lingering fuzziness from pain meds he could have totally gotten it up if need be.

Need not be, however. Not in a moment like that one, all careful and quiet and fragile. The way Danny just keeps looking at him, it makes him wiggle his hand free to tug Danny closer, to tug him down for a quick little peck; just testing the waters. "I may have no idea how much you appreciate me but you have no idea how many times I've thought about kissing you. So I win." He nods matter of fact, shrugging nonchalantly at the way Danny's eyebrows raise. "Just shut up for once and let me kiss you." It should be offensive but the way Danny says it just makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, cause oh god Danny wants to kiss him some more. "And by the way I knew. I wasn;t kidding when I said I like to cuddle after."

Stiles may or may not blush an unhealthy amount at the memory of actually believing Danny accepted his accidental offer for sex- and then was pouty when he had voiced it as a joke. "I'm still a virgin. Offer totally still stands."


	10. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the writers of Teen Wolf don't like to feed us whump addicts, I decided to give us a little bit of food for thought with Stiles, Malia, the glass shard embeded in his fucking _chest_ you know the one they ignored and WHALLLAAAAAH here you go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a ton of grammar errors because I went and got my nails done yesterday lmao  
> It has made typing fucking _impossible_ but man do my hands look pretty.

For all the times Malia's human friends have complained about dating a supernatural creature, she can easily say it's just as hard to date a human. For her in particular there were one too many hurdles to get over when it came to human's customs- after all she'd been a coyote for years. She's taught things she hates and things she finds infinitely interesting and fun but not once had she ever had to deal with the immune system of a human. The frailness of human bones. These things were new to her, even after being unable to full shift back for so long, forced to reside in what Scott had called her human form although to her it didn't seem the right thing to call it. She observed what it meant to be human; Stiles when he cut his finger open with a parry knife that one night he wanted to cook them dinner and ended up with stitches because he just...didn't heal like she did. That time one of their classmates had spread a nasty stomach bug arund and nearly everyone got it, everyone but her it seemed even though more than just the pack had gotten off the hook.

She may look like a human but to her she isn't even considered to be CLOSE to being one. The only human aspect, to her, is the way she still feels. The way her heart swells when she wakes up in Stiles bed with him wrapped up in her arms. The way she forms a bond with her adoptive father- no, just father, the man who was beside himself when he lost her and regained his entire world when he had her back. The way misses a mother she never knew, watching Melissa and Scott hold each other like their lives depend on it after they escape danger in the knick of time. In that sence she can accept that at least part of her is a little bit human. The people she cares about bring it out in her.

Stiles in particular brought a lot out in her. Some things a tad bit more animalistic than human- has the claw marks on his back to prove it more times than not- but at the end of the day he is the one who literally devoted himself to helping her adapt to a whole new life, a whole new world. He was there every step of the way with unending support and advice, had nothing but good words for the progress she made and without fail, was the first to stand up for her no matter the circumstances. He was her pillar of strength until she built herself up and was able to be her own pillar- but just because she was her own pillar didn't mean Stiles was ever stripped of his title of anchor. He was her everything; her love, her way back when she got lost. He was what she had seen people in movies and tv shows call 'their better half'. From the way he handled situations to the way he balanced her out. He was truly her other half, and she may have had a hard time voicing it but he knew. He had to of known.

But Stiles was human. Always had been. And as she has to watch him suffer through sickness and injury it made things very clear for her; they were on different planes of existence.   
And because of that thought they had broken up. That break up, the time spent apart and miserable? That had been brought their relationship to a whole new level. A good level, she thinks, because if they had never broken up that day they wouldn't be where they were in the present. Their last year of high school, Stiles deadset on joining law enforcement and Malia being accepted into the second college of her choice. She wouldn't have a family in the Stilinski's, wouldn't be sneaking into Stiles' room every night or kissing him before going to their respective classes in the morning.

But with all of the good always come a little bad. Their particular brand of bad came in the form of....well, the woman she should technically be calling her mother. But she wasn't, had never been the one to calm her down after bad dreams as a child or hold her hand when she needed the support only a mother could give. No, this woman would have to earn that title and place in her life, not that she was trying or anything. In fact, she was quickly losing any and all chances at ever being given it at all.  
You don't try to kill your daughter and expect her to be okay with it, even after you fail to do so. Especially if you fail to do so, and cause physical, bodily harm to the man your daughter loves. Nobody gets away with that, not even the woman who brought her into this world.

To say she kicked Corinne to the curb the second she was able to walk away from her and not have to worry about being killed, would be a horrific understatement. It was closer to milliseconds, everything forgotten as she ran to the McCall's living room where her boyfriend was- rightfully so- freaking out about the shard of glass protruding from his chest. The only thought running through her mind amidst the chaos of trying to think of what to do, is that Stiles is human. Human, human, human, no supernatural healing ability. No skin knitting itself back together or blood clotting itself to stop from losing too much. He's laying on the floor in a small puddle of his own blood, face pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat and she doesn't know what to _do_. She's never had to stop someone from bleeding out before, never had to be the one to get another person through something like an injury. 

So she does what her gut tells her to do, takes his wrist and fits her teeth over the inside of his arm. It's the stupidest thing in the world that he's so far gone that he doesn't so much as twitch when she bites down and breaks skin, may have even hit bone with how desperate she was to just _save him_. But nothing happens after she's sat him up and held him tight to her chest; the gash where the glass had been pulled out is bleeding freely if not more than it had been before and his hair is starting to fall over his forehead where it was slick with sweat. He wasn't getting any better. Maybe she hadn't bitten hard enough- maybe his body was rejecting it? She doesn't want to think about any of it, instead focuses on doing what Braeden is relaying to her from a dispatcher over the phone. 

By the time someone gets there her hands are red and wet with blood, frantically pressing against Stiles' chest. It's Scott and a few of the other pack members- her mind isn't ready to focus on more than Stiles and Scott, who is on Stiles' other side with terror wafting from him. He's saying something about pulse and breathing and blood, _so much blood_ but she isn't listening to him as much as she's desperately listening for a heartbeat that just isn't there. It had stopped mere seconds before she caught the sound of tires screeching to a halt just outside the house, and it as like on the drop of a dime her entire world stopped with it. Her world stopped but the physical world, Braeden and Liam and Scott moving around her in a chaotic flurry, it all kept going.

She couldn't understand. How could the world still keep turning when someone so important, so utterly selfless and caring had just.....died. Ceased to exist. No longer lived and breathed and _loved her_. She feels the moment she gives up, when she lets her hands slip away from the blood and torn skin to rest on a pale, still wrist. There's no pulse there, no pumping of blood from the heart to show life and it has her in a state of disembodied calm. Like she was just observing it all through a dream in someone elses mind. She sees Scott take her place, hands pressing against a chest devoid of movement- and notices that he's giving him chest compressions, something she hadn't known to do.   
She sits there clutching a lifeless hand for what feels like hours but is in fact only minutes, experiencing for the first time as someone else looses a key part of not only their life but theirself as a person. She doesn't fully process that she's one of those people as well, had just essentially lost part of herself to her own mother.

And just like that she can understand the desperation behind getting a part of yourself back. For her mother, it had been her power as a werecoyote but for Malia it was something so much more. It was the love of her life. "Corinne would be happy," she spits venomously, "we're even now." And she believes it. Stiles isn't coming back, not if he hadn't turned by then. Not if his heart wasn't beating and his brain was devoid of oxygen for long enough. He was dead, laying there in a demolished living room without all of the people he would have wanted to say goodbye too. It's not fitting, not for someone like Stiles who deserved the world and all of the good left in it. It isn't _enough_.  
She hates it. Hates it all, that she had let herself latch onto a person who could so easily be taken away, a weak human- but it's short lived because this humn had given her his entire world without expecting anything in return. He shared his everything with her. He made her more human than anyone else had ever managed and she couldn't even do it for him in return, couldn't give him the gift of being able to continue on living.  
Instead she gave him this. She gave him death and pain and the agony of knowing he wouldn't be there with his Dad or her or Scott.

Scott is there though, tears pouring down his face as he sits there ignoring Braeden telling him to stop, it isn't working, he's gone. Ignores the paramedics who come in through the front door and don't hesitate to immediately get to work. They do their job, ultimately calling a time of death- something Malia knows she will never forget. Eleven fifteen pm. They leave the house to grab a stretcher - a fucking bodybag, she knows- and they're all left there in a state of disbelief.  
But something suddenly has Liam perking up from where he'd been standing by the living room door, all quiet devistation and big alligator tears, and quick as lightning he's there to push Scott aside. A loud, objecting yelp leaves the older boys mouth but is cut off when not only he, but everyone else, watches Liam roll Stiles onto his side and _pound_ his back with an open palm.   
Malia's first reaction is tear the kids throat out for touching Stiles that way, for hurting him- even though he's fucking dead- but she doesn't get the chance to so much as move.

She can hear the faintest little blip of a heartbeat, weak and tired but there. It stops her dead in her tracks, takes the air from her lungs. That's a sound she would have never considered to be beautiful before all of this but in that moment it is the single most wonderous sound she'd ever heard. And then she hears what Liam probably had heard; a sound almost like a gurgle, like choking. Like liquid blocking an airway, and with a final palm to his back Stiles is gasping ludly with a puddle of black, inky liquid on the carpet in front of him. Followed closely by, of course with the worst timing possible, the EMT's returning. They both stop in the doorway with jaws dropped and eyes wide with sheer shock, not necessarily knowing how to react to seeing a dead teenager very much alive and practically climbing into one of the others' lap.  
Malia doesn't cringe at the black being smeared over the front of her shirt or the way Stiles nearly rips the material in an attempt to pull himself closer to her because he's _alive_. How, she isn't too sure, but in that moment she didn't care. 

She starts caring real fast. When the gasping doesn't stop and she feels thick, tarry liquid drip down her shoulder all she can do is watch the way recognition flashes over Scott's face. He knows she bit him, knows what this means....and she can see the defeat in his eyes so clearly that it makes her heart shrivel in her chest for him. But neither of them have time to dwell on it, not when they have two EMT's looking at them like this was some sort of medical horror story. Well, one of them is.  
The other is standing off to the side with fingers wringing and apprehension written all over her face. A quiet, "I'm so sorry..." Is what she leaves them with, pulling her co-worker out the front door before they all pick up the sound of the ambulance leaving. She knew what it all meant as well, not much of a surprise at that point with how many supernatural creatures had crossed their path over the past few months. 

They're left to handle the situation without any unnecessarily added stress, they're thankful for it really, because who wants to explain this to a pair of people who couldn't understand it all? That they had to sit here and watch as one of their best friends chokes on his own bodies way of showing that he wasn't compatable with the bite of a werecoyote. It hits them then, that even though they hadn't lost him to the Desert Wolf they were losing him to...Malia. And the sound is horrific, the way he coughs and chokes and desperately gulps for air but never seems to get enough. It's all right there in her ear, with his face pushed into her neck and his hands holding onto her so hard she can picture the way the bones are bending and bowing under the pressure. But she doesn't move, not on her life would she deny him what he wants. She just sits there and holds him at close as she can, watches Scott eventually pull himself together enough to rub his best friends back and run his fingers through his hair. 

It does little to help but wonders to calm him. He stops clutching so hard, stops the hyperventilating. But the liquid keeps coming, dripping down his chin and slowly starting to pour from his nose. He's not really there with them, kind of looks like he's staring at something that isn't there, and it breaks her heart. He doesn't deserve _this_ just as much as he hadn't deserved what her mother had done to him and it's not fair. She remembers him saying life isn't fair but this something else entirely. This isn't life being unfair this is fate being unfair. Like Stiles was meant to die no matter what they did to prevent it. Like she was meant to love someone who was going to leave her in the most painful way they could possibly manage.

But just as suddenly as it had started, it stops.  
Stiles sucks in a heaving gulp of air and coughs so hard it literally shakes them both. And then he's pushing her back with so much force she hits the floor on her back, air leaving her lungs in a 'woosh' as she hears growling, nails against hardwood floor, calming voices- and the smell of complete and utter horror. "Stiles- Stiles, calm down it's okay. We aren't going to hurt you." Braeden is the one talking, trying to calm him down where he's looking at them with vivid, glowing blue eyes. His hands are clawed, curled into tight fists at his sides- and he looks terrifying. He's pale and sickly looking, the front of his shirt and hoodie absolutely drenched in black and dark red.  
Scott seems one hundred percent done with everything from where he's sprawled on the floor, taking Liam's hand when it's offered to help him up, like he doesn't know what to do. Like he's more than just a little exhausted- but this is Stiles. Stiles who he'd been best friends and brothers with since they were three years old. Stiles who had just been dead for more than five minutes. And boy does Stiles know how to kick the true alpha into gear, even when he doesn't conciously know he's doing it. But he's not really paying Scott as much attention as he is Malia, eyes softening and head tilting as if he was just then starting to realize where he was, who he was- who all of the people in the room were.

They're walking on eggshells around him at that point, watching as his brain formulates what is happening around him. When he takes a step toward her she can immediately see they way both Scott and Liam tense, ready to jump in if need be. He looks just short of being feral, like something out of a nightmare and that scares Malia more than it should.   
She's looking at her boyfriend, _her Stiles_ , but it isn't him. It's not the boy with gentle, careful touches and deep whiskey colored eyes- it's not the boy who cracks jokes during tense times like this. She doesn't know what the hell she did to him but she does know it isn't good. 

She remembers Liam when he'd been bitten; he had been nothing like this. Stiles looks like he'd crawled straight out of The Grudge for fucksake.  
Grudge character or not, he takes another step in her direction before he's full out running at her completely ignoring the sounds of warning coming from their left- and, of course, in true Stiles fashion he's stumbling right into her. Everyone freezes at that, eyebrows raised and jaws tight, but Stiles is far from tense anymore, instead he's pushing his entire fucking face into Malia's neck and taking nice, big whiffs of her like he can breathe her in if he tries hard enough. "Uh....is he okay?" Sounds from over the back of the flipped couch, Braeden watching the two of them as if she's not too sure what she's _actually_ seeing. "Do I have to put him down or...?" There's four immediate responses of rather exasperated, "NO!" that have her holding her hands up in mock surrender, clipping her hand gun back into it's holster at her hip with a small smile.  
The kid may have a taste for the dramatics and an obnoxious set of tendencies but she's glad she doesn't necessarily have to shoot him. She has a sneaking suspicion Derek would merder her in her sleep if she did, anyway.

Four responses had sounded though, and last time Malia checked only three of them were on speaking terms with their final friend being reduced to terrified silence.  
Said person doesn't say a word more afterward but does look up at her with familiar eyes, devoid of any and all supernatural color. With that particular loss she wishes the black all over Stiles shirt and chin would have gone with it but isn't so lucky. It would make it heck of a lot easier for her to pretend that half of what happened that night had been nothing more than a bad dream.

 

Stiles turns out to be a fantastic werecoyote, albeit he definitely manages to let his human side shine through more often than most of them would have liked. Most being a key word seeing as Malia would have it no other way. For the first month or so he immediately goes for the closest weapon to him during fights- seems more drawn to his signature baseball bat to nobody's surprise- like he's forgotten that he has a pair of claws and teeth sharp enough to more than just defend himself. He still has those little ticks, as if even having the supernatural ability to heal just....didn't apply to ADHD.  
One thing they are all infinitely thankful that definitely carries over however is the fact that Stiles could more than just will himself to have more mountain ash like he had that night back at the club. He literally willed himself to accept the intrusion of the change. He likes to believe that he was supernatural all along, that he was more like the other pack members than he ever thught he could be, but Deaton is always there to remind him that having a spark doesn't necessarily make someone a supernatural creature. Not that he needs to feel like he's being denied something by it, no way in hell, because hello- werecoyote? Yeah that's a thing that happened.  
He also died, that's a thing too, but they like to completely ignore the fact that he'd been killed off by a piece of fucking _glass_. Malia is fantastic at ignoring that little tid bit, even when someone brings it up. It's easy to ignore when he's standing there, right beside her alive and very much so well....but when she's alone and the memories are free to take over, she finds herself reverted right back to that desperation. Right back to needing him more than air, so she's up and ready to sneak out of her bedroom but he's always there. Always seems to just know when she will need him, when she feels like their life is just wishful thinking- that he had died that night, because she had bitten him.

He's always, _always_ quick to pull her into a hug and remind her that he could help her- count your fingers, this is real it's not a dream- touch me, I really am here with you- always ready to help her just like he had when he was still human. But these things never changed, not with Stiles. He still gives her everything he has, still shares his entire world with her even though it isn't the same as it used to be and it scares him. He's still very much so human, and although it can be amusing to think about how the tides have changed over the past few months....Malia will never think that it wasn't fate that brought Stiles to interfere with her and her mother that night. Because all of the things that made their relationship strain were balanced out in the strangest of ways.

Malia was still working on her more human aspects- and Stiles was very much so working on his more animalistic aspects.  
They just fit, the two of them, like two puzzle pieces made from the same set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps keyboard*  
> AND HERE WE GO.
> 
> I got upset with my fingernails making typos and was like haha ha haha im just gonna end it here and like. i dunno. re-visit this au too because i love that coyotes mate for life and now they share that lil aspect in common with each other and it's like wow the cute wow the fluff wow the possibilities _stalia wow_ *jazz fingers*


	11. Human Interaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles bumps into an old friend in what he considers to be the luckiest of circumstances.

They meet in a gas station. It's hard to tell what time of day it is, the snow is falling so thickly that it's hard to even see past the front windows much less the actual sky. It had seemed to be empty, no sound or movement had met his senses upon entering so he prepared to hunker down for a quick nap before being on his way.   
To say the least he doesn't get his nap. Instead he gets attacked by a wild animal, all snarles and sharp teeth all up in his face the second he'd rounded the cash register counter. He just wanted a nap somewhere semi safe, somewhere he didn't have to worry quite so much about contracting frost bite. He gets somewhere to die of infection from the fucking _wolf bite_ he sustanes to his lower arm. Yeah, he isn't happy. And he's about to prove it too, gun out and safety off as he aims right between the wolves eyes.  
He stops though, feels his heart jolt up high enough in his throat to have him choking and sputtering because this wolf just flashed a pair of familiar azure blue eyes at him.  
"Holy shit, _Derek_?" Before he can even get his face uncovered enough to speak without it being muffled he's got an armful of heavy, warm wolf.

He never thought he would be so happy to see someone who used to cause him bodily harm on a regular basis but here he is, sitting in the stock room of an abandoned gas station with Derek Hale curled into the side of his winter coat like a friggin' heat leech, dark muzzle resting against his chest with little whuffs of contentment every few minutes. He feels smaller than Stiles remembers him being back in Mexico, like he's been reduced to skin and bones over the past year. When the world went to shit the pack had been scattered respectively, some leaving with family and others...not making it. Derek had torn outta Beacon Hills so fast Stiles could have sworn he had whiplash but it was for Cora. So he had accepted it, learned to accept the loss of so many people he loved whether it be to the elements or their families survival as a whole.

This was like something out of a dream he knew he was having but never remembered when he woke up; not being alone, having someone he actually knew before everything happened....cuddling with Derek? He may have gone through a period of time where he wanted nothing more than to get in the guys pants but he outgrew that, got to the point where he knew Derek on a deeper level and therefore knew how many times he'd been emotionally hurt. It splashed ice cold water over that particular fire rather quickly.  
And now, after a year of not even knowing if he was alive, Stiles was holding him and sharing his body heat with him. Albeit he was very much so full shifted and put things on an immediate platonic level. Not that Stiles would have tried anything, not when he could barely move his fingers from how achy he was- from how exhausted he was from constantly being on the move.

And now he's got a nice little gash in his arm that he can feel bleeding into his shirt sleeve. That will definitely end well, he thinks to himself, if it doesn't end with him dying and leaving Derek scarred further than he already was. The thought makes his mind refocus on the wolf beside him, the _lone_ wolf, no Cora in sight.  
Shit. He doesn't want to ask, dosn't want to bring up a hurtful subject- hopes and prays she didn't die or something. Either way he wouldn't get an answer seeing as he would be talking to a wolf, and said wolf was absolutely crashed; he managed to look even more exhausted than Stiles felt and that was a feat in itself really. So he decides to save that particular conversation for another time, hopefully another day if he gets lucky and Derek is still there when he wakes up.

He manages to sleep for what felt like five minutes but was probably closer to multiple hours, feeling the warmest he had in months. Derek is still there looking every bit the content, well rested animal he was, and it makes Stiles loet out a relieved sigh. He was so not ready to let go of the little piece of the past that he now had. It may not have been his Dad, may not have been Scott. But Derek was someone he had come to respect and truly care for and that was more than enough to make him happier than he'd been in a long time. So he lets himself enjoy the moment, hugs Derek a little closer to his side and buries his face in warm, soft fur. He might even call him a good dog, craves that little bit of banter they shared way back when. It earns him a sleepy little huff, a sharp cut of deep brown eyes that tell him to knock it off but since when does he listen to Derek's little tantrums?

"Oh shut up. You know you're enjoying this just as much as I am." The next second he feels like the seames of his coat are about to burst, skin sliding on skin- and then Derek is looking up at him with the single most aggrivated expression he thinks he's ever seen on the guys face. His well maintaned hygene has gone to shit; his hair is long enough to tangle, he's smeared in dirt and that seriously attractive scruffy look? Yeah, it's turned into a full fledged beard that scrapes against the chest of Stiles' shirt when he turns his head. "Stiles? Shut up. Dog jokes stopped being funny years ago." _Oh yeah, there it is._ He grins at the sudden shift in Derek's expression, like he was trying so damn hard not to look like he was enjoyinjg himself or their little moment of rare normality. Stiles is ready to start with the 'eyebrows' banter but the way Derek shifts against him has his cheeks and ears flaming with blush, because um Derek's totes naked? All pressed up against him like that? Let's just say he could feel his fingers again and they wouldn't complain if it meant feeling Derek up. _Platonic Stiles,_ he reminds himself. _Platonic._

 

By the time Stiles manages to pull out the contents of his backpack and find Derek some clothes that vaguely seem to fit him, it's like they've been returned to the days before they were taking each other more seriously. It's strangely comforting, all kinds of amusing. Stiles wouldn't trade it for the world at that point- not when he can hold a conversation with someone other than himself, not when he can laugh and feel carefree for a little while. Having Derek around is a well welcomed change that he plans on milking for as long as he can. Not that he really has to because when the snow has slowed as much as it probably ever will, he's packed up and ready to head out- and Derek is right there by his side, fully shifted and looking ahead expectantly. Stiles ruffles his ears and ignores the annoyed grumble it earns him before heading out, shivering despite the layers seperating him from the freezing temperatures as the gas station's door swings shut behind them.

They make short pitstops here and there, collecting more supplies. There are two of them now, Stiles thinks with a small private smile, shoving the only sweatshirt he'd mamanged to find in the clothinhg store they had spotted from across the street. Derek is looking at him like he wants to kill him and even in his fluffy wolf form it's terrifying as fuck, but never would he actually go through with it so Stiles continues to stuff it into his pack with a happy hum. It's a faded pink color, something Derek would never be caught dead in, and that brings pure, unadulterated joy to Stiles. So does the fact that he can mouth off and Derek can say nothing about it until they've found somewhere to camp out for the night. He takes full advantage. "Aw, why so huffy? It will look so nice on you." Derek doesn't seem to enjoy it quite as much, takes to trotting off to look for something else they might need with his ears flat against his head and jaw clenched. "Bring out the pink in your cheeks." Stiles can't help the snicker that follows Derek making an infinitely _done_ noise in the back of his throat.

That night when they stop to find shelter Derek is kind of forced to wear the damned pink sweater under his winter coat, not that he even acknowledges that it's more than just another piece of clothing meant to keep him warm without the thick, downy fur coat of a wolf. That doesn't stop Stiles for grinning dumbly though, even when he's finally awarded a playful but ever Derek-esque shove that makes him tip over onto his side on the floor with a little too much force. If anything it has him grinning even wider. This is the way things had once been between them, a friendship that grew into a world of trust and respect after they had steadily learned more and more about each other. This is something he felt deep in his bones, the need for human interaction. But this is so much better than he could ever have thought, sitting on the living room floor of an abandoned but in fairly good shape house, fire crackling away in a fire place while they poke fun at each other and take turns eating heated up spaghetti-o's right out of the can. 

They decide to stay for a while, maybe a few days at most. It gives him peace, makes him feel fuzzy and safe and cared about when they curl up to sleep and stay warm even with the fire going strong. Derek had a way about him that hadn't always necessarily come across as protective, but in the moments when he reaches out and tugs him in close like it's just what he was meant to do, it certainly makes Stiles feel protected. And on top of that he actually gets a sufficiant amount of sleep, fully at ease with the knowledge that Derek was able to pick up on anyone or anything that got too close. All in all Stiles is in a state of mild shock every time he thinks about how lucky he was to have stopped at that specific gas station when he did. 

But finding Derek came hand in hand with also getting an infected animal bite that had steadily gotten worse as they bombed any and all luck when it came to antibiotics. And even though he knows Derek hadn't meant it, was only protecting himself, it doesn't change the fact that he wakes up one night dreanched in a cold sweat. He's shivering but feels hot, _so hot_ and the way his arm throbs makes him want to ask Derek to just make it stop. But the guy looks absolutely pitiful as it is, guilt heavy on his shoulders and sadness in his eyes as he helplessly just...watches. That is of course until he's suddenly headed for the front door, shedding clothing and telling Stiles to stay put- his gun is loaded and still sitting under Derek's coat where he had made it a makeshift pillow. And then he's gone, disappearing out into the dark.

Time passes so fast after that, that Stiles is actually disoriented by it. What day is it- how many days had passed since Derek left? Where did he go, was he ever coming back? His mind is muddled, foggy and slow running with fever. His arms is bright red and swollen where his skin had been broken by sharp teeth and he can feel his hair sticking to the side of his face and forehead, matting with sweat. He vaguely wonders how the hell he's managing to sweat, like he should be freezing his ass off with the fire having burnt out. It makes sense that he should be desperate for any sorce of heat but instead he's pressing his cheek against the cold hardwood floor, wrestling his arms free of the material cacoon Derek had left him in- desperate to get away from the burning in his veins that just won't go away no matter how hard he tries to make it stop. He feels he's delusional, like he's imagining this cold, snow filled world because he just isn't _cold_. It scares him, but he doesn't have the mind to think about anything other than the heat and pain.

By the time he feels hands on him, hands that aren't his, he's able to see the stuttery little puffs of his breathe in the air, proof of his newest addition to 'why my life sucks' in the form of having trouble breathing. He's still got his cheek resting against the hardwood, his only relief at that point, but it's taken from him when he's desperately pulled up into a sitting position that makes his stomach turn. Next thing he knows he has something chalky being shoved down his throat, cold fingers holding his jaw open so he can get down a sip of water. "Jesus Christ, I shouldn't have left you alone I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Somewhere in the back of his mind Stiles registers that Derek was there, that he had come back from wherever he had run off too. "You came back?" It must sound horrific to Derek because it sounds slurred and drawn out to him. "Aye....you came back for me." It hurts to smile, like his skin was stiff and burning over his cheekbones but he does it anyway because he thinks Derek deserves smiles- lots of smiles, maybe he'll even get a smile out of him too?

No smiles, not quite yet, but frantic naked cuddles? Yeah, that happens. He's shivering so hard he can practically feel his teeth vibrating in his head and when Derek practically squishes the life out of him from behind it dawns on him that he had just gone a _really long time_ without any heat source other than jackets and sweatshirts. Every single place their skin touches feels like fire meeting ice, has him squirming and whining for it to stop until slowly it actually starts to feel pretty damn good.

It feels like he's been sleeping for days straight when he wakes up, fire re-stoked and new blankets spread over him. He can hear Derek puttering around by the kitchen, most likely trying to get something to eat that doesn't have to be right out of the can, and realizes for the first time that he isn't burning from the inside out. Instead he's content, if not a little cold. His joints are achy from shivering so long and hard but his arm isn't throbbing like it had been- it still looks nasty with infection but he can see the difference in it, how the inflaimation is going down and the redness has turned a soft pink.  
"I found amoxicillin." The sudden voice has him jolting hard, eyes wide and more alert than they'd been in a while. Derek is standing off to the side of the fire place with a bowl in his hands, he looks clean shaved and showered- something Stiles immediately envies because _Jesus he was so unclean_. Sweat and dirt from the floor are caked on his skin and his hair is probably just as rank as it feels, he would kill for a shower. "There was a drug store on the other side of town...I met someone there, someone from a group."

Groups of people tended to put Stiles off for multiple reasons, the biggest being that most of them turned out to be pretty fucked up. That thends to happen when an entire country has no government, no rules, no structure. Stiles could count on both hands how many times he had been subjected to the outcome of this _apocalypse_. To say he had trust issues with the people he hadn't known before all of this happened would be an understatement. But Derek had this look in his eyes, something like hope, and in that stupid little moment Stiles thinks he would do anything to keep that hope right where it was. 

"They gave me the antibiotics, let me shower and everything. Stiles they have a working _generator_ and they want us to join them." Something in Stiles heart felt torn, like the stupid thought of him not being enough for Derek to stick around would actually happen. But then it also felt like Derek wanted him to go with him, if he wanted, and that was a testimate to how much he wanted to be around him. He could have easily just said fucki it, stayed where there was hot water and heaters and lights...but he came back. So Stiles promises to think on it, to genuinely consider actually going back with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little short, a lot of whump and pre-slash but hey it is what it is and I'm already working on the next oneshot (which I am _so_ stoked about btw) and of course I have a thing for re-visiting certain au's and this is one of 'em.


End file.
